


Coming Up For Air

by Flamefyre



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-09 18:17:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12893937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flamefyre/pseuds/Flamefyre
Summary: Cop AU. Kensei obtains a new partner on the force and he and Shuuhei get thrown neck deep into a twisted ring of drugs, sex trafficking, and murder.





	1. Chapter 1

The thing about hero-worship, Kensei thought to himself, was that it made you stupid. That much was made pretty apparent by the scene before him: the body of a woman who had been beaten to death, all because she wouldn’t leave the man who’d saved her life one time and ended it only a few years later. The man in question was huddled on the ground, his hands cuffed behind his back as he sobbed pathetically. Kensei gave a little snort through his nose. Being sorry about something didn’t make it better, especially if someone was dead.

“Detective?”

Kensei turned to look at the young officer standing behind him. The boy was an interesting shade of green, and looked like he might be sick at any moment. “Need to puke, Officer?” Kensei asked, raising his eyebrow. Truthfully, he wasn’t surprised—fifteen years ago he might have tossed his cookies at a sight like this as well. Now, he was a little more used to it, used to the blood and the sadness and the glazed emptiness of the eyes.

The officer’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “No, sir. Are we ready to leave?”

Kensei hauled the perp on the floor up one-handed. “Yeah. I remember this guy from a domestic dispute call we got half a year ago. We won’t have any trouble convicting this sack of shit. You call the medical examiner?”

“On their way,” confirmed the young man as he followed Kensei out of the apartment. Together, the two of them wrestled the nearly-hysterical murderer into the police car, and the kid officer whose name Kensei hadn’t bothered to learn drove them back to headquarters.  

Kensei was just finishing filling out the paperwork when his captain knocked on his office door. The silver-haired man looked up at Hirako Shinji lounging in his doorway, his usual wide grin in place. “What do you want?” Kensei asked flatly. Normally he wouldn’t be able to get away with speaking in such a disrespectful tone to a captain, but he and Shinji were old friends. Besides, Shinji was like a duck—he let everything roll off his back.

“Gotcher new partner, Kensei.”

Kensei growled a little, shoving one of his desk drawers shut roughly. “I don’t need a new partner, Shin.”

Shinji hooked his thumbs in his belt loops, his smile fading a little. “Another kid was found dead today.”

Kensei’s head shot up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m telling you now. You may not want a partner, but we need more eyes on this case and this guy I’ve got for you is showing a lot of potential.”

“’Potential?’” Kensei growled. “You make him sound like a kid himself. He’s not even a detective?”

“Not yet,” Shinji admitted. “He’s still pretty green, but he’s got great instincts, from what I’ve seen.” The blond looked back towards something Kensei couldn’t see. “C’mere, Shuuhei. He’s mostly bark, don’ be scared.”

“I’m not scared,” came a new voice, deep and mellow and a little husky. Into the doorway stepped a young man with dark, spiky hair and what seemed to be a permanent frown, both on his lips and in the middle of his forehead. His face was smooth, unlined, and unmarked, and even from behind his desk Kensei could see that he barely had more than fuzz on his cheeks and chin.

“You _did_ get me a baby,” he snapped at Shinji, who grinned. “Lookit this kid, I can’t work with this! He looks like he belongs in fucking daycare!”

Shinji opened his mouth, but the kid—Shuuhei, apparently—beat him to it.

“I’m twenty-one, I’m qualified, and I don’t need you to babysit me,” he said in his quiet voice. “I’ll keep up.”

Kensei leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “I’ll give him a try,” he told Shinji. “But he fucks up once, and I’m done, got it? He fucks up, and I work alone.”

“Y’know, yer lucky you can get away with talkin’ to me like that,” Shinji replied mildly. He clapped Shuuhei on the shoulder and turned away. “Make me proud, kid.”

Kensei turned back to the paperwork on his desk, ignoring the young officer still standing in his doorway. After a moment, Shuuhei stepped inside, sitting in one of the chairs that was placed against the office wall.

“How long you been a cop?” Kensei asked finally, still not looking up.

“A year and a half.”

The silver-haired man snorted audibly. “And why the hell would you be useful on a case where some sicko keeps raping, torturing, and killing young children around the city?”

“Why don’t you ask the captain?”

Kensei’s eyes flashed, and he finally looked up. “Because I’m asking you.”

Shuuhei’s expression was guarded. “I have a degree in criminal psychology. I understand how people work and I’m good at reading them.” His dark gaze flicked over Kensei. “For example, you were in the military for several years—Marines, I’m guessing—and you were pretty highly ranked, so it pisses you off to take orders now, even from Captain Hirako, who you clearly go way back with. You’re brash and mean, but you genuinely care about victims and have gone out of your way to help people you didn’t need to.”

“That’s a cute skill, brat, but nearly all of that you coulda learned from anyone in this department.”

Shuuhei’s gaze sharpened, boring into Kensei’s amber eyes. “You were shot in the hip while you were in the military—you tend to favor your right side—and one of your best friends was killed right in front of you. You couldn’t save him, and you still blame yourself for it today.”

Kensei’s entire body tensed, and his grip tightened so hard that the pencil he was holding snapped in half. The only person in the world who knew that was Shinji, and even Shinji wouldn’t have told a greenhorn he barely knew. “How the _fuck_ do you know that?” he snarled, heart pounding in his ears.

“Like I said,” Shuuhei answered, his face still impassive, “I’m good at reading people. I can see the shadows in your eyes.” His voice gentled a little. “You’re not the only one who’s lost someone, you know.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Kensei said tightly, and the boy fell silent. “Keep your mouth shut about things that you don’t understand and we’ll get along, okay?” Without waiting for Shuuhei to answer, he stood up, pulling on his coat. “Tomorrow, come to work in civilian clothes, got it? I’m a plain clothes detective, I don’t need you makin’ people nervous because you’re in a cop uniform. Now c’mon. We gotta go see the medical examiner.”

Kensei drove them his own unmarked car, gripping the steering wheel hard to stop his hands from trembling. He was still shaken up from what Shuuhei had said, which had hit so far home that it was making him nauseous. There was absolutely no way Shuuhei had seen all of that in his face. He had either known about some of it beforehand, or… Kensei shook his head. There was no _or_.

“What do you know about this case?” he asked the kid, just to take his mind off of other unpleasant things.

“Serial killer, specifically of children, ages twelve to fifteen, all about five feet tall. All four bodies so far have shown sexual trauma and signs of torture.”

“They’ve also all had a symbol carved into them, like a signature,” Kensei added. “So far it seems he—or she—hasn’t been discriminating based on gender or looks, just age. All four kids looked pretty different, aside from being similar heights, and so far it’s been two girls, two boys.”

“Statistically it’s probably a man who’s killing them,” Shuuhei pointed out. “But I guess we have to examine all options.”

“If it is a man, he either doesn’t penetrate them with his penis or he’s been really careful with condoms,” Kensei said flatly. “So far we haven’t been able to get any semen samples, or skin samples, or samples of any kind.”

“He’s been in the business before, then,” Shuuhei suggested as they pulled into the ME’s parking lot.

“Maybe,” Kensei hedged, getting out of the car and walking towards the building, Shuuhei hot on his heels. “There are other options too.”

“Like what?”

“A copycat killer, or a killer from the past who was never caught.”  Kensei glanced back briefly at the kid as they entered the building, and was startled to see how spooked Shuuhei looked. “What?”

The boy cleared his throat. “Nothing. I’m fine.” But his face was still white and drawn as they stepped into the ME’s room. On one of the long, stainless steel tables was a small, lone figure, covered in a sheet.

“You ID’d the body yet?” Kensei asked, pulling out a pad of paper and pen, and after a moment, Shuuhei followed suit.

The ME, who Kensei had never liked, glanced up from his work.

“So very nice to see you again, Kensei,” he said, a little cackle in his voice. “Who’s your friend?” His smile was nearly as wide as Shinji’s, but instead of invoking a sense of familiarity with Kensei the way Shinji’s did, the ME’s grin just made him nervous.

“He ain’t a friend, he’s my new partner,” Kensei grumbled. “And mind yer own business, Kurotsuchi.”

Shuuhei stepped forward, holding out his hand. “I’m Hisagi Shuuhei.”

Kurotsuchi clasped his hand, pulling the boy forward so they were nose to nose, his blue hair tickling Shuuhei’s forehead and his amber eyes studying the kid thoroughly. “Kurotsuchi Mayuri,” he said finally, after a long pause. Shuuhei’s gaze sharpened and he jerked his hand free.

“Pleasure,” the boy said quietly, looking uneasy.

“Can we get to the body?” Kensei asked impatiently.

Kurotsuchi cackled. “I suppose that’s what you’re here for. Come, come.” He dragged the sheet back.

Kensei, having seen the four previous victims, was expecting the sight. He fully expected the rookie to have to leave the room to vomit, but when he glanced over at the younger man, Shuuhei was standing like a stone, his face smooth of emotion. The only indication of any upset was a sharp intake of breath as the body was revealed.

The body was that of a young boy, maybe eleven years old, with bright red hair and blank, staring eyes. Around his wrists and ankles were weals that could only have been caused from being tied up, and the young body was littered with bruises, cuts, and what looked like burns. Most curious of all was the small symbol carved into the child’s chest, equidistant between his nipples, though there was no more blood left to flow from it.

“Name?” Kensei asked.

“His guardians came in and ID’d him earlier today. Said his name was Hanakari Jinta.”

“Guardians?” Shuuhei spoke up. “Was he an orphan?”

Kurotsuchi nodded. “The only reason we were able to ID this one so quickly was because I know one of his guardians. Urahara Kisuke. I remembered him having a foster boy with red hair so I called him down.”

The way Kurotsuchi kept smiling even while speaking about the death of a child made Kensei’s skin prickle on the back of his neck, but he was used to the creepy man, so he ignored it. Shuuhei looked murderous, and Kensei shot him a look, silently warning him to keep his mouth shut. Kurotsuchi may have been an insensitive bastard, but he was a damn good medical examiner, and butting heads with him only made him obdurate.

“Twelve years old, death caused ultimately from asphyxiation in conjunction with a broken neck,” Kurotsuchi continued.

“Strangled?” Shuuhei broke in. He was looking at the dark marks on the boy’s neck.

“Not with hands. Most likely rope, from the look of the burns on his neck. Like a hanging.”

“Rape?” asked Kensei.

“There’s definite trauma around and inside the rectum. Like the others, though, it’s hard to tell if it’s from a foreign object or a penis. No semen.”

“And he was found early this morning?”

Kurotsuchi nodded. “Dumped in an alleyway, naked. A couple joggers found him at about six this morning. I’d put time of death from between twelve and four a.m. today.”

Kensei was scribbling in his notebook furiously. “The other kids didn’t die from asphyxiation, did they?”

“No, they bled out from slashed jugulars,” Kurotsuchi said with a little cackle.  

Kensei frowned as he wrote the information down. “You got photos?”

Kurotsuchi handed a stack of photos and the medical report to Shuuhei, who tucked them away into his jacket.

“C’mon, kid,” Kensei said absently. “Let’s head back to HQ. I’ll show ya the board.”

They drove back in silence, Shuuhei a little pale, but Kensei didn’t offer comfort and the young man didn’t ask for any. He took his young partner back to his office and showed him the whiteboard where he had pictures of all the other victims. “We find something new, we put it up here,” he told Shuuhei, who nodded. Kensei dug in his desk for a magnet and stuck the photos of Hanakari Jinta to the board, a little away from the others. With a marker, he jotted down what Kurotsuchi had told them about the body before leaning back against the desk to look at the board, then at Shuuhei, who was looking at the photos of the other children with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Well, brat, c’mon and tell me what you think about this boy. If you’re gonna stay, you’re gonna be useful.”

Shuuhei continued to study the board, head tilted a little, and Kensei watched him quietly for a minute, eyes narrowed. He couldn’t shake the feeling he got around the kid; it hadn’t let up during their day together at the ME office and it was still there now, niggling in the back of his brain. It was almost like there was something…off about Shuuhei. He was weird, the way he watched everything silently, which was normally a good trait in a detective but instead made Kensei’s scalp prickle. Maybe it was the shine of knowledge in his dark eyes, eyes that Kensei had a feeling had seen far more than their host could fully handle. He resolved to pull the kid’s file at the end of the day and read up on him. Something told him there would be little use to ask Shuuhei about his life.

“An accident, maybe?” The boy spoke up at last. “The torture was pushed too far and he died?”

“Unlikely, given the state of the other victims,” Kensei pointed out. “Our guy knows how to ride the edge of life and death. He’s not the type to have an accident.”

Shuuhei’s brow furrowed further than it already was. “Punishment and suicide,” he said after a minute. “Hanakari Jinta did something he didn’t like—broke free, maybe. This killer is prone to fits of passion, and he’s unstable. He wanted to teach Hanakari a lesson.” Shuuhei was still looking at the photo of Jinta, and Kensei saw with mild alarm that his eyes were a little unfocused. There was an almost robotic quality to his voice and actions, and it made Kensei want to slap him silly, but he resisted. “He beat him, burned him, cut him, and choked him, but he left the rope around his neck and Hanakari managed to hang himself,” Shuuhei continued, and at last his voice dropped the robotic quality and his eyes focused again.

Kensei studied him with narrowed eyes. “That’s cute, kid, but you’re grasping. We probably won’t know anything for sure until we get the guy.”

Shuuhei looked like he was going to protest, but ultimately kept his mouth shut. He was quieter than usual for the rest of the day, and there was a grayish tint to his skin that Kensei noticed several times but chose to ignore.


	2. Chapter 2

Shuuhei sighed as he stepped inside his apartment, rubbing his temples with one hand. His head ached fiercely, like it always did after _it_ happened, and the pain had been bothering him for hours without relief.

Kazeshini seemed to sense his irritation and didn’t jump on him in greeting as he normally did. Instead, the big Doberman thrust his wet nose into Shuuhei’s hand and whined a little, which would have made him smile if his head hadn’t been pounding so hard.

“Good boy,” Shuuhei murmured, stroking the dog’s silken head. There were times when he hated having such a fierce, powerful pet, but it was hard to stay resentful when Kazeshini was so unrelentingly loyal.

The young man stepped wearily into his kitchen, reaching for the dog food he kept under the sink and pouring Kazeshini a bowl before wriggling out of his uniform shirt and tossing it back behind him into the living area. He lacked the energy and initiative right then to cook, so Shuuhei dug in his fridge for some leftovers and ate leaning against the counter, too tired to even bother heating his food up. It was only after he had eaten and stripped out of the rest of his uniform to lie on his couch when he allowed himself to think about the day he’d had.

Kensei hadn’t recognized him—Shuuhei was positive of that. He couldn’t decide if that was a blessing or a curse. It had been over ten years, so it wasn’t surprising, and since police dress code forbade him from having visible tattoos, the dark 69 on Shuuhei’s left cheek had been hidden under expensive concealer. Kensei would certainly know something was up if he saw that, and Shuuhei knew it would happen sooner or later.

He closed his eyes, but as tired as he was, sleep eluded him with dark shadows of nightmares edging over his vision. Shuuhei turned over and stared at his service weapon that was laying on the table next to the couch, admiring the grooves and curves of it, wondering how it would feel pressed to his own head. After a minute he shoved the feelings down in his chest and pulled out his phone.

“Renji?” he said when the other person picked up.

“Yeah, what’s up? You want me to come over?” Renji’s voice was warm and reassuring, and it wrapped around Shuuhei like a blanket, immediately making him feel better.

“Do you mind?”

“’Course not. I’ll be there in a few.”

“Thank you,” Shuuhei whispered, but Renji had already hung up. He covered his eyes with his forearm, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Renji had to be a fucking saint to put up with him, honestly.

A few minutes later there was a tentative knock at his door, and Shuuhei called for his visitor to come in, settling a hand on Kazeshini’s collar as the dog stiffened and growled. Renji’s bright head appeared around the door, followed by the rest of his body, and Kazeshini relaxed, recognizing him.

“Hey,” Renji said, coming over to the couch and reaching for Shuuhei’s head, weaving his fingers through his hair. His burgundy eyes flicked over to the gun on the table and then back to the man on the couch. “It happen again?”

“Yeah, my head’s killing me,” Shuuhei answered, his voice raspy. Renji’s hand stroked through his hair gently, massaging the scalp underneath with practiced, smooth motions. “You didn’t have to come,” Shuuhei continued, his voice barely audible.

Renji was quiet for a long time. “Yes, I did,” he said finally, leaning down and pressing his lips to Shuuhei’s in a gentle kiss.

The dark-haired man gave a sigh, relaxing against Renji’s mouth and reaching up to wind his hands in his long, red hair.

“How ‘bout the bedroom?” Renji suggested after he had mapped out Shuuhei’s mouth thoroughly with his tongue. “There’s really not enough room to fuck on a couch, no matter what the movies say.”

Shuuhei sat up with a groan. “Yeah, you’re right.” He pointed to the front door. “Kazeshini, guard.” The Doberman moved to sit in front of the door, his muscled body tense and alert. Shuuhei allowed Renji to pull him to his feet and to the bedroom, the redhead’s hand warm and comforting against his.

 

Three days later, Kensei pulled up to Shuuhei’s apartment. The sun had barely peeked over the horizon, but Urahara Kisuke had agreed to speak with them, and he wanted to get a move on before the man sank back into his grief and refused to talk. If Shinji hadn’t been good friends with Hanakari Jinta’s former guardian, Kensei would have been harsher and demanded to see him sooner, but Shinji had pacified him for the time being.

Something made Kensei stay in his car for a bit rather than go up to Shuuhei’s door. He leaned back in the driver’s seat, crossing his arms, his brow furrowed as he turned his thoughts to the young man. He still couldn’t decide if Shuuhei was crazy or just strange. He’d pulled his files after their first day as partners and had noticed that the dark-haired man had failed his police exam twice, but on the physical portion, not the mental, which was the opposite of what Kensei had expected. Even he had noticed the hard grooves of muscle that corded the younger man’s arms and the way his shoulders and chest fit his shirts nicely, much like Kensei’s own did. Shuuhei was not lacking in strength, that much was clear, but the way he seemed so sure of things he had no business knowing set Kensei’s teeth on edge. There was very little about Shuuhei’s past in the files, and so the only thing Kensei had really learned about his new partner was that he had been orphaned at a very young age and was apparently a prodigy, having graduated college at eighteen.

Movement caught Kensei’s eye at Shuuhei’s front door and he shook off his thoughts, watching with curious eyes as the door opened and a tall, good-looking man with long red hair stepped out. Kensei could just catch a glimpse of Shuuhei through the doorway dressed in sweats and an undershirt and was surprised when his partner leaned forward to kiss the red-haired man on the lips. Even from his distance, it was unmistakable, and Kensei nibbled on his thumbnail a little, raising an eyebrow. He hadn’t pegged Shuuhei as gay, though with how tight-lipped the man was about himself, there had to a myriad of things he didn’t know about him. Even so, Kensei waited until the redhead had gotten into his car and driven off before he went to knock on his partner’s door.

An explosion of barking and growling sounded from inside the apartment, but Kensei wasn’t dissuaded. The door opened, and the silver-haired man looked down to see a large Doberman with bared teeth, saliva glistening on his canines and lips as he strained against a hand on his collar.

“Renji, I told you, everything’s fine, you don’t have to—” Shuuhei broke off when he saw who it was. “Oh. Kensei. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you. Kazeshini, down.” The dog quieted, backing down but keeping a watchful eye on Kensei. “What are you doing here?” Shuuhei asked Kensei.

“Wanted to get going. Urahara Kisuke said he’d speak with us. Get dressed and let’s go.” He noticed a dark mark on Shuuhei’s cheek. “You got a bruise or something?”

Shuuhei’s hand flew to his cheek, covering the mark. “No, it’s a tattoo. I usually keep it covered up with makeup, but I guess I forgot to wash it off and it smudged during the night.” He stepped back, opening the door wider. “Come in. I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

Kensei stepped inside, keeping a wary eye on the dog, whose fur was still bristling a little at the back of his neck.

“He won’t bother you,” Shuuhei reassured him as he moved towards the bedroom doorway. “Not since I told him to stay down.” The young man disappeared and Kensei heard the shower start.

The silver-haired man crouched down a few feet from Kazeshini, making the dog shift restlessly, ears thrust forward and legs stiff. Kensei stayed still, his body relaxed, not meeting the gaze of the skittish animal. He murmured soothing things under his breath, watching from the corner of his eye as Kazeshini relaxed further.

When Shuuhei returned, his hair damp and tattoo completely hidden once more, he saw Kensei crouched on the floor with Kazeshini nuzzling his face, his large hand fondling the dog’s ears. “Whoa,” Shuuhei blurted. “I’ve never seen him take to anyone like that. He normally just tolerates people.”

“I’ve got a pup like him,” Kensei said by way of explanation. “I know how guard dogs work.”

“Doberman?”

“Nah, Tachikaze’s a German Shepherd. Pain in the ass to brush, but he’s a good dog.” Kensei got to his feet, brushing off his pants. “Let’s go. I want to talk to Urahara before he changes his mind.”

“It’s the ass crack of dawn,” Shuuhei pointed out, pulling on a coat that covered his shoulder holster. “He’s not gonna thank us for waking him up.”

“I’ll betcha fifty he’s already up,” Kensei told him as they left the apartment. “Losing someone, especially a kid, often gives people wicked insomnia.”

“Or hypersomnia,” Shuuhei objected.

“We’ll see.”

Kensei was right. Urahara answered his door immediately and looked relatively lucid, though there were dark shadows under his red-rimmed eyes. From what Shinji had told him, he and Urahara were rather similar, aggressively cheerful and silly most of the time. The man before Kensei was a man broken, face haggard from grief. The lines around his mouth that had clearly once been from laughter now only made him look older, and his blond hair was lank and greasy.

“Urahara Kisuke? I’m Detective Muguruma Kensei, and this is my partner, Hisagi Shuuhei. May we come in?”

Urahara stepped back, opening the door further. “Yes, of course. Please, try to keep it down, though. My foster daughter is still sleeping.”

“We’re very sorry for your loss,” Shuuhei said as they stepped inside.

“Thank you,” Urahara murmured, looking surprised that the young man cared. He led them to the living room and sank down on one of the couches opposite them. “What can I help you with?”

“We have some questions about Jinta,” Kensei began, pulling out his notepad. “Can you tell us about when he first went missing?”

“He didn’t come home for dinner, about a week ago. That was pretty normal, though. Often he stayed after school with his friends, but he always called to tell me. I just assumed he forgot or his phone ran out of batteries. Then his principal called me and said he hadn’t been at school that day. We filed a report, but he’d just…disappeared.” Urahara’s voice caught.

“How had his mood been? Any changes?” Kensei didn’t bother to wait for Urahara to gather his composure, he just forged ahead as though he hadn’t noticed.

“Um…well, he had been a little moody, I guess, but that was normal for him. He had a very tough early life—abusive foster parents, neglect—but he’d been doing very well, aside from the normal mood swings of boys his age.”

Kensei noticed the look on Shuuhei’s face too late to shush him, and the young man broke in with, “You two had a fight, didn’t you?”

Urahara looked guarded. “What makes you say that?”

Shuuhei’s eyes focused again and he looked almost flustered. “Just a guess.”

The blond man raked a hand through his dirty hair, a pained look on his face. “I…yes, we did fight. The morning Jinta disappeared, I found drugs in his room. Heroin, I think. He was so young—I just went ballistic, and I slapped him.” Urahara’s jaw tightened, shame shadowing his eyes.

“You slapped an abused kid?” Kensei said flatly, his amber eyes sharp.

Urahara looked miserable. “I know, I shouldn’t have, and I apologized for it immediately. I know that doesn’t make it better, but I can’t live with myself if it turns out to be part of the reason he—disappeared.”

“I think that’s unlikely,” Shuuhei said gently, shooting a look at Kensei that told him to stop being so callous. “Would you mind giving us a moment?” he asked Urahara, who nodded.

“I’ll get you some tea—I should have offered when you first sat down, forgive me.” He disappeared into the kitchen.

“You wanna take it down a notch?” Shuuhei hissed at Kensei when they were alone. “He just lost someone he considered his own son. I realize you have the most detective experience and we haven’t known each other that long, but you’re shit with people, Kensei, so maybe I should handle this.”

Kensei raised his eyebrows. That had to be the most words Shuuhei had ever said to him in one sitting, and with the most passion too. “You’ve got some brass balls, kid,” he said at last. Secretly, he knew Shinji had paired them up because people _were_ his weakness—he didn’t coddle them, and when speaking to people who had just lost someone, sometimes coddling got you where you needed to be. Kensei was a brilliant detective—he just wasn’t a brilliant people-person. “Have at it,” he told Shuuhei, leaning back as Urahara reentered the room with a tray of cups.

“Did Jinta tell you anything the morning you confronted him?” Shuuhei asked, taking one of the cups with a nod of thanks. “How he got the drugs, for instance?”

“He said there was a boy at the high school who dealt them, but he didn’t tell me his name. He stormed off before I could get much out of him.”

“How do you think he got the money? Heroin’s a little steep for a twelve-year-old’s allowance.”

Urahara bit his lip. “I checked my safe that morning. Quite a bit of money was gone from it.”

“It’s not uncommon for addicts to steal,” Shuuhei said gently. “May we look at his room? There might be something that helps us there.”

“Of course. Here, follow me.”

Hanakari Jinta’s room looked much like any other preteen boy’s room—messy, with posters of bands and girls taped crookedly over his walls.

“Where are the drugs?” Shuuhei asked as they stepped inside, and Urahara reached into his pocket.

“I didn’t know what to do with them,” he confessed. “I’ve just been carrying them around. I don’t know why.”

Shuuhei looked at the bag of powder closely, then handed it to Kensei, who sealed it in another bag and pocketed it. “Jinta’s toxicology report was clean, but we’ll have this tested to see what he was buying so we can try to track down his dealer.”

“You think the dealer has something to do with all these kids disappearing?” Urahara asked.

“We have reports of drug addiction in the other victims,” Shuuhei told him. “So it’s possible.” He stepped further into the room. “Do you mind if we search?”

“No, not at all. If it’ll help with the investigation, I’ll cooperate any way I can,” Urahara assured.

Kensei moved immediately to the bed, motioning for Shuuhei to come help him with the mattress. “Kids most often hide things here,” he told the younger man. “Close to them, y’know.” They lifted the mattress off the box spring and Kensei held it up while Shuuhei looked. “See anything?” Kensei asked, sounding a little strained. The mattress wasn’t heavy, but its bulk made it difficult to hold onto.

“A bunch of porn,” came Shuuhei’s muffled voice, and Urahara cleared his throat in an embarrassed way.

“He was at that age,” Kensei huffed as Shuuhei collected the magazines and pulled them out from under the mattress.

“Okay, let it down.”

As Shuuhei flipped through the porn magazines, Kensei bit back a comment about his partner’s sexual preferences and joined him, while Urahara looked on with pink cheeks.

“Here,” Kensei grunted as a slip of paper fell out of one of the magazines. He hurriedly tossed the magazine aside before he could get a hard-on and picked up the paper.

“Phone number?” Shuuhei asked, leaning closer to look.

Kensei thought it might have been because he’d just been looking through an extensive porn collection, but when Shuuhei leaned over, the older man found himself mesmerized by the sharp curve of his jaw and the short, soft-looking hairs at the back of his neck. To his horror, Kensei felt a familiar stirring in his stomach and quickly looked away, clearing his throat.

“Yeah. Phone number for ‘M.’ Probably the dealer,” Kensei said. He got to his feet and subtly moved away from Shuuhei a little.

Shuuhei followed suit, moving to shake Urahara’s hand. “We’ll be in touch if we need more information. Thank you for cooperation, Urahara-san.”

Urahara showed them to the door. “Of course. Please, try to find who did this soon.” He looked down in surprise as a tiny hand fisted in his baggy green pants, and a little, black-haired girl of about ten peeked out from around his leg. “Good morning, Ururu.” Urahara put a gentle hand on her head, smiling wanly at the police officers. “This is my foster daughter, Ururu. Please forgive her, she’s rather shy.” Sure enough, the little girl turned and ran at the sight of the two strange men.

“Is she…doing all right?” Shuuhei asked. He seemed to have a soft spot for children.

“She’s just gotten quieter, if that was even possible,” Urahara said with a sigh.

“We can refer you to an excellent child psychologist if you’re interested,” Shuuhei told him. “I’m sure Captain Hirako would be happy to help you if you asked.”

“Thank you,” Urahara said, shaking their hands again. “Let me know if I can do more.”

 

Back at headquarters, they sent the drugs found in Hanakari Jinta’s room to the lab and then went to what used to be Kensei’s office. Shinji had ordered another desk to be put in for Shuuhei, even though the room was barely large enough, and so now it was their shared office. Kensei just thanked God he wasn’t claustrophobic.

“Ueyama Mabashi,” Shuuhei said suddenly, bent over his computer where he was tracking the phone number they’d found.

Kensei looked up from his own desk. “That’s who ‘M’ is?”

“Looks like it. High school junior, but he was held back a couple years, so he’s eighteen. He was picked up for possession with intent to sell two years ago and spent some time in juvie.” Shuuhei turned the computer so Kensei could look at the mug shot of a boy with bright, orangey hair that fell over his face in long bangs.

“Most likely the dealer, then.”

“Yeah. Should we go talk to him?”

“Wait till the school day’s over and get him on his way home,” Kensei said absently.

Shuuhei lounged in his seat, rubbing his temples. “I’ve been thinking,” he started.

“Uh oh,” Kensei said immediately, not looking up.

“Ass. What I mean is, why does this guy dump the bodies in alleyways where they’re bound to be discovered? Wouldn’t it be smarter to incinerate them or dump them in the river? It’s like he _wants_ them to be found.”

Kensei mulled it over. “Either he’s stupid, overconfident, or you’re right.”

“Are those the only options?”

“Can you think of another?”

Shuuhei sighed, still rubbing his head. “Guess not.”

Kensei studied him for a minute, seeing the knot of tension in his forehead. “Kid. Hey, kid.”

His partner looked up. “I have a name, you know. You could use it instead of calling me ‘kid.’”

“Fine. Shuuhei. What the hell’s wrong with your head?”

Shuuhei jerked his hand from his forehead. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit, you look like someone’s givin’ you a lobotomy.”

“It’s just a headache,” Shuuhei snapped.

Kensei took a chance. “A headache that happens every time you…guess what happened to someone?”  

His partner’s sloe-black eyes narrowed at him. “What are you saying?”

“You may be good at reading people, _Shuuhei_ , but I’m not a detective for nothing.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Shuuhei said sharply.

“It means that there’s something you haven’t been telling me, and I’ll be damned if I don’t figure it out,” Kensei shot back, his scalp prickling in anger.

Shuuhei fell silent. “It’s not any of your business,” he said finally. “Why don’t you focus on this case instead of on me?”

“It’s my business because you know things you shouldn’t,” Kensei said in a low voice. “Not just about me, but about this case.”

“I make educated guesses,” Shuuhei objected. “What, you think I’m a fucking mole?”

“No. Shinji vouched for you, and I trust him.” Kensei crossed his arms.

“Look, just drop it. I told you before, I’m good—”

“—At reading people. Yeah. You mentioned that.” Kensei’s voice was flat. “Sure.” His phone rang then, and Kensei snatched it up, still in a bad mood. “What.”

It was the drug lab.

“Uh huh,” Kensei said, writing something down on a piece of scrap paper. “Was it cut with anything? Okay. Yeah, thanks.” He hung up the phone. “It wasn’t heroin that Jinta was taking,” he said to Shuuhei, all business again.

“Then what?”

“Fentanyl.”

“The painkiller? Shit,” Shuuhei swore. Fentanyl could be hundreds of times stronger than heroin, making it one of the most dangerous opiates to abuse.

“I take it you’ve heard of it.”

“Oh, yeah.”

His jaw had tightened, making Kensei curious. “Personal experience?” the older man guessed.

“Not me, personally. But a lot of kids I was around growing up were hooked on heroin, and a couple of them died from fentanyl overdose when their smack was cut with it.”

“This wasn’t cut with anything. Just pure fentanyl. It’s a miracle Jinta didn’t OD. I’d guess he hadn’t been taking it long. There’s no way a twelve-year-old could still be alive after abusing it for a long time.”

“Where is a high school student getting pure fentanyl?” Shuuhei wondered, his brows furrowed.

“I guess we’ll see when we talk to him.”

“He’s not going to talk willingly, you know,” Shuuhei cautioned.

Kensei grinned what Shinji had long ago dubbed his crazy grin. “Oh, I know. I been in this business a while, kid. I’ll make him talk.”

 

Children flooded out of the school doors, laughing and shouting as they chased each other. Kensei was leaning against his car, his sharp amber eyes drifting over the crowd as Shuuhei perched on the hood of the car, watching as well.

“You see him?”

“Not yet. Wait, yeah. Look, at the end of the crowd.” Shuuhei frowned. “He just went behind the school.”

Kensei pushed off the car. “C’mon. Don’t let your guard down just ’cause he’s a kid. Could be packing.”

“At _school_?”

“Can’t be too careful,” Kensei grunted as they approached the school.

Mabashi was crouched behind the school against the brick wall, muttering to himself, placing pennies next to each other in a row, one after the other. His skin was dead white, his body thin and gangly.

“He’s tweaking,” Shuuhei muttered to Kensei, sounding disgusted. “How the fuck didn’t his teachers notice he’s tweaking?”

“Adults see what they want to see,” Kensei said back, his voice dull. “C’mon. Careful, if he’s tweaking, odds are he ain’t gonna be cooperative.” The silver-haired man stepped forward, calling out, “Ueyama Mabashi. Can we talk to you for a minute?”

The boy’s head jerked up and he watched them warily. Shuuhei crouched down in front of him.

“It’s okay,” the young man said. “My name is Hisagi Shuuhei. We just want to ask you a few questions about Hanakari Jinta.”

At the sound of the name Mabashi’s eyes widened, and his hand shot out, raking Shuuhei hard down the right side of his face.

“Motherfucker!” Shuuhei spit out, falling back a little. Mabashi leapt on him and Kensei caught a flash of metal.

“Hey!” he barked, but Mabashi was already sinking a switchblade deep into Shuuhei’s middle. There was a snap as the blade broke from the handle, and Kensei’s partner staggered back, making a choking noise.

Kensei had started forward as soon as Mabashi moved, sickened to see blood spurt into the air. In a flash he had pinned the boy to the ground and wrestled his arms behind his back, cuffing him quickly and fighting down the urge to put a bullet in his head. Mabashi’s fingernails had been cut jaggedly, leaving them sharp, and the tips of the ones on his left hand were stained red. The broken switchblade handle lay not far away, one end bloodied.

“Shuuhei!” Kensei called as he jammed a knee into the struggling drug dealer’s back.

“Yeah,” Shuuhei answered roughly, picking himself up off the hard concrete. His hand was pressed to his face, blood welling behind it and dripping down his wrist. The other hand plucked at his bloodstained shirt, the shock of being stabbed not getting through to his brain quite yet. “Shit,” he cursed as more blood splattered, staining the asphalt, and he swayed a little before collapsing in a heap on the ground.

“Dammit,” Kensei growled, digging out his phone. “I need backup at the back of the high school,” he said when Shinji picked up. “And an ambulance. Fucking hurry.” Mabashi was still bucking under the knee holding him down, so Kensei couldn’t move to try to help Shuuhei, though his heart was pounding in fear. The amount of blood pooling on the concrete was alarming, and Kensei hoped the stomach wound wasn’t as deep as it looked.

He turned his attention to Mabashi. “Ueyama Mabashi, you’re under arrest for assault on an officer with a deadly weapon. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you.” Mabashi snarled and writhed under him, but no words slipped through.

Kensei’s sharp ears picked up sirens and he breathed a sigh of relief as they grew louder, accompanied with running footsteps. “Take him to HQ and throw him in a holding cell,” he ordered the officers who appeared around the corner, letting Mabashi up and hauling him to his feet. “Keep an eye on him till he sobers up; he’s high as fuck and I don’t want him hurting himself.” They carted the howling boy away and Kensei was at Shuuhei’s side in a flash, turning him over and pulling the young man’s head into his lap. The whole right half of his partner’s face was covered in blood. His eyes were closed and Kensei didn’t want to risk damaging him further by trying to open the injured one. The front of his shirt was wet with blood, and he could see the broken end of the switchblade protruding from the wound, but he knew enough not to try to remove it.

Paramedics rounded the corner of the building and Kensei looked up. “Here, take him,” he said, helping them hoist Shuuhei’s limp body onto their stretcher. He stayed by his partner’s side, climbing into the ambulance without hesitation, even though it gave him unpleasant memories of all the times he’d been half-conscious in one himself.

“What happened to him?” asked one of the paramedics, examining the wound on the young man’s stomach.

“He got scratched and stabbed by a drug dealer,” Kensei snapped. “Whose fingernails were sharp and fucking nasty. Now make it better!” He looked down at his hands, surprised and irritated to see that they were shaking. He balled them into fists to keep them still.

“Hell of a drug dealer,” said the other paramedic, holding a gauze pad to Shuuhei’s bloody face. “He’s gonna need stitches on his face, and it’s hard to tell, but he might go blind in the eye.”

“What the fuck?” Kensei exploded. “You’re fucking doctors, you better make sure he don’t go blind, asshole!”

“We’re not doctors, sir, we’re EMTs, and you have to calm down. Getting angry isn’t helping,” the female paramedic said. “We’ll be at the hospital in less than five minutes, so why don’t you shut up and hold your friend’s hand?”

Kensei glared at her, but he moved closer to Shuuhei’s prone body and, after a moment, reached out and slipped his hand over his partner’s limp one, squeezing gently. Shuuhei’s palm was rough and calloused, much like Kensei’s own, and he was surprised at how natural it felt to hold the younger man’s hand.

There was faint movement and Kensei looked up hurriedly as Shuuhei’s fingers tightened around his, his one visible eye cracking open a little. “You fucking idiot,” Kensei whispered to his partner. “I told you he might be armed, you little dumbass. Now get the fuck better so I can yell at you.”

Shuuhei’s lips formed the syllables of Kensei’s name before his eye closed again.

“He’s losing blood,” said the male paramedic. “Do you know his type?”

Kensei thought back quickly to the files he’d read on Shuuhei. “He’s AB,” he told the paramedic, and in a flash the man was sliding a needle into Shuuhei’s forearm attached to a bag of blood.

“We’re here,” called the driver, and the paramedics eased Shuuhei’s stretcher out of the ambulance while Kensei was herded into the waiting room. “We’re taking him into surgery; you have wait here,” a nurse said when he tried to follow his partner.

“You’d better make sure he keeps his fucking eye!” Kensei roared after the nurse, ignoring the scandalized stares of the other people in the waiting room. 

“Kensei!”

Kensei turned, wild-eyed, to see Shinji coming towards him, his smile significantly smaller than it usually was.

“What the fuck happened?” Shinji snapped in a whisper as approached. “Why are you covered in blood? Are you hurt?”

Kensei looked down, noticing for the first time that Shuuhei’s blood was smeared over his shirt and arms, drying into a sticky brownish pattern. “I’m fine,” he told Shinji. “It’s Shuuhei’s.” His adrenaline was starting to wear off, leaving him pale and shaky, and Shinji guided him to sit in one of the chairs.

“Is he still alive?”

Kensei winced at the words, remembering how Shinji had asked the exact same thing so many years ago. He was grateful he could give a different answer this time. “Yeah,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. “We both fucked up. I shoulda kept a better eye on him…it’s easy to forget he’s a rookie sometimes, and he shoulda kept his guard up. Got stabbed by a high school drug dealer.”

“Where?”

“Stomach. He also scratched him across the face. Poor boy’s a mess.” Kensei looked down at his hands, which were still shaking, and remembered the cold grip of Shuuhei’s calloused hand in the ambulance. “They said he might lose his eye.”

“Fuck.” Shinji leaned back. “I don’t know if a one-eyed guy can stay a cop. Have to ask the chief of police.”

“I don’t even know how bad it is,” Kensei said, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know if he’s gonna make it.”

Shinji studied him. “You like him,” the blond captain observed, propping one leg on the other. “Damn, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you actually care about anyone.”

“He’s weird as hell, but he’s good at what he does,” Kensei defended.

“Huh,” was all Shinji said, but when Kensei looked over, there was a sly little smirk on his face.

“Shut the fuck up,” he said aggressively. “I swear to god, you will not let that go.”

“I just want you to admit you _might_ be into guys too,” Shinji said, grin widening.

“I fucked a guy once,” Kensei shot back heatedly. “ _Once,_ in the military, when I was too hard up to care he had the wrong parts and we thought we were gonna die anyways. Now drop it.”

“If you say so,” Shinji chuckled, but he let the matter go. He changed the subject. “You hear about Mashiro anytime recently?”

Kensei stiffened, not happy with the change of topic. “Not lately,” he said shortly.

“I called yesterday. They say she’s doing better. Fewer meltdowns, y’know.” Shinji’s voice was gentle. “You have got to stop blamin’ yerself, Kensei. We all carry the guilt.”

“I’m sick of losing people,” Kensei admitted, gritting his teeth. “First Rose, then her, even if she’s not actually dead, the part that makes her Mashiro is gone.”

“If you bothered to visit her, you’d see she’s still in there somewhere,” Shinji said, a little sharply. “Now you might lose your second partner, Kensei. You can’t fall apart this time for something that wasn’t your fault.” His voice was hard and commanding.

“I know,” Kensei growled, feeling his hackles rise. “I’m fine, Shinji, so shut up.”

Shinji fell silent, knowing Kensei wouldn’t let him offer any comfort, so he sat with him quietly, leaving only briefly to bring them both back cups of coffee.

Several hours later, a nurse approached them.

“Are you Hisagi-san’s next of kin?”

“He doesn’t have any family,” Shinji spoke up. “I’m his boss.” He flashed his badge.

“Oh, I see.”

Kensei swallowed, feeling a little dizzy. “Is he—”

“He pulled through the surgery fine and is currently in a stable condition,” the nurse said kindly.

“And…his eye?”

“He may have partial blindness in his right eye and a few nasty-looking scars, but barring complications from surgery, he should be fine.” The nurse smiled at Kensei’s obvious relief.

“Can he have visitors?” asked Shinji briskly.

“He’s still under sedation for the time being, but when he wakes up, then yes.”

“And when will that be?”

“Most likely sometime tomorrow morning. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you left and came back,” she told Kensei.

Shinji thanked the nurse as she left and then he turned to his friend. “That’s pretty much as good as I’d hoped. He’ll need some practice with his gun if he’s partially blind, but I don’t see why he shouldn’t return to work when he’s better.” 

Kensei let out a long breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, surprised at how relieved he felt. “I’d better go interrogate Mabashi,” he said, but Shinji caught his arm.

“Go home and get some sleep,” the captain advised. “Mabashi will still be there in the morning.”

“Every day I lose there’s a bigger chance another kid dies,” Kensei snapped.

“Kensei, you’re exhausted and you’re useless to me like this. Go home. That’s an order.” Shinji’s eyes glinted, daring him to argue.

Kensei opened his mouth, fully expecting to take the dare, but a wave of tiredness made him change his mind. “Fine.”

 Shinji drove him back to his car and Kensei headed home wearily, still thinking about Shuuhei lying unconscious in a hospital bed. When he unlocked his apartment door, Tachikaze was there, eager to see him and sniffing at the blood on his shirt and arms, but Kensei pushed him away so he could shower, impatient to get the sticky feeling of Shuuhei’s blood off of his body. He tried not to look at the brownish water swirling down the drain.

The flashback hit him like a high-speed freight train, unexpected and swift and with enough force to knock him to his knees. Rose, smiling at him over the barrel of his sniper rifle before taking aim, his golden hair like a halo in the harsh sunlight. The sharp, numbing pain as a bullet shattered part of his right hip, sending him to his knees. Rose dragging him to safety, keeping the enemy soldiers off them even though they were outnumbered ten to one. Lying there, dizzy with pain, trying to take up his gun again to help but his blood-covered hands too slippery, too uncoordinated. Bullets tearing through Rose’s slender body, just seconds before Shinji had shown up with another squad to help. Rose’s blank eyes, once so beautiful, staring into Kensei’s as he bled out in a rush of blood.

Kensei came back to himself on the floor of his shower, curled up and shaking, fighting for breath as Tachikaze flung himself at the shower curtain, worrying it with his teeth until he could get to his master. The big German shepherd ignored the water still pelting down on them and thrust his nose against Kensei’s trembling hand. The silver-haired man fumbled with the shower handle until the water ceased, leaning back against the sweating, tiled wall and closing his eyes, fisting a hand around Tachikaze’s thick fur. The dog sat by the tub, gently slurping Kensei’s face with his tongue a couple times until Kensei patted his head.

“I’m fine, boy,” he told the dog, pulling himself to stand on quivering legs, still struggling a little for breath. It had been a long time since his PTSD had kicked in, but it had hit hard this time. Kensei toweled down and pulled on some sweatpants, dragging himself to his bed and curling up with his arms around Tachikaze, the only other being who would ever see him so vulnerable.


	3. Chapter 3

“Tell me about Hanakari Jinta,” Kensei said, his voice flat and commanding.

Mabashi, seated across the table from him, simply bared his teeth, straining at his cuffs.

“Talk,” Kensei growled menacingly.

“No fuckin’ way,” Mabashi hissed back. “Not a fucking word until I get my lawyer.”

Kensei slammed out of the room. Shinji, who had been watching through the glass, raised an eyebrow. “He’s lawyering up,” Kensei said by way of explanation. “I’m gonna go to the hospital. Shuuhei should be awake by now, and by the time Assface’s lawyer gets here I’ll be back.”

Shinji dismissed him with a flap of his hand.

Shuuhei was still sleeping when a nurse directed Kensei to his room, so the older man sat in the chair by the bed to wait. He looked down at Shuuhei’s still face, the right half bandaged tightly, and did a double-take. The young man’s face had been washed of blood—and makeup too, apparently, finally revealing the tattoo he had on his left cheek.

“Holy shit,” Kensei muttered to himself as he stared at the small, inked numbers on his partner’s face that perfectly matched the same tattoo Kensei had in the middle of his chest, right below his pectorals. Now he was sure there was plenty Shuuhei wasn’t telling him. It couldn’t be a coincidence that they had the same tattoo, could it? Was he some kind of stalker?

Before he could think on it further, Shuuhei’s left eye fluttered open and his hand came up to touch the bandage covering the right half of his face.

“Hey, quit messin’ with that,” Kensei told him, gently pulling the hand away. Shuuhei’s lips moved wordlessly, and Kensei saw how dry and cracked they were. “You want some water? Here.” He supported Shuuhei’s head in one hand, reaching for the glass on the bedside table with the other and maneuvering it so Shuuhei could get the straw between his teeth.

“Thanks,” Shuuhei croaked, leaning back again.

“Ya feel okay?” Kensei asked.

“Stomach hurts,” the young man answered. “Face itches.”

“Not surprised your stomach hurts,” Kensei told him. “You got stabbed in it.”

Shuuhei was silent for a minute. “Oh yeah. Fucked up, didn’t I? Shoulda listened to you.” He managed to look miserable, even with one eye.

“It was both our faults, I think,” Kensei said quietly.

“How’s Captain Hirako liking you working alone?”

“He says I’ve got as much finesse as a trampling elephant, but he’s dealing with it for now.”

“So you gonna get a new partner then?” Shuuhei looked unhappy still, and Kensei couldn’t exactly figure out why.

“Why the fuck would I do that? You ain’t dead.”

“You said if I fucked up once, you worked alone.”

Kensei finally understood. “Kid, we both fucked up. You’re a good cop, and you’ll make a good detective someday. I’m not gonna cut you loose, okay? Quit worrying.”

Shuuhei seemed to relax a little. “’M not a kid.”

“You are compared to an old man like me,” Kensei replied, his voice almost fond, and Shuuhei’s mouth twitched a little, the closest Kensei had ever seen him come to smiling.

“What’d the doctors say about me?” Shuuhei asked, changing the subject. When Kensei frowned, he sat up a little, wincing. “What? What is it?”

“You got scratched pretty good on your eye,” Kensei said finally. “They saved it, but said you might be a little blind on that side.”

“Oh.” Shuuhei swallowed. “Well, I guess it could be worse.”

Kensei grinned. “Yeah, something told me that wouldn’t keep you down long. You should be able to go home in a couple weeks.” He got to his feet. “I gotta get back to the station and interrogate Mabashi.”

“Try to be patient,” Shuuhei told him. “I know that’s hard for you, but losing your temper will only make him more obstinate.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kensei said dismissively. He lingered by Shuuhei’s bedside briefly, then reached out to brush the spiked hair away from his forehead. Almost right away he drew back as though he’d been burned. “I’ll see ya later, kid.”

“Kensei?” Shuuhei called after him, and he turned back.

“Yeah?”

“It’s weird when you’re nice.”

Kensei barked out a laugh. “Don’t get used to it, kid.” He didn’t mention anything about Shuuhei’s tattoo. There would be time to talk about that when he wasn’t half out of his mind from morphine.

Back at the police department, Mabashi hadn’t budged, but he’d been joined by his lawyer, a slimy-looking man with black hair, round glasses, and an unsettling smile. Kensei took his seat across the table, folding his hands in front of him.

“I’m willing to offer you a deal, Mabashi. Without my help you’ll be charged with aggravated assault against an officer with a deadly weapon and possession with intent to distribute. If you talk to me about Hanakari Jinta, I can get those charges reduced, maybe dropped, and offer you immunity on anything else you might be involved in. Whaddya say?”

Mabashi shifted uncomfortably, looking over at his lawyer. “What do you think, Ugaki?”

Ugaki pushed his glasses up on his nose, nodding. “It’s a good deal.” He smiled broadly. “You must be rather desperate, Detective Muguruma.”

“Since I’m neither lawyer nor criminal, I actually _care_ that children are dying, so yes,” Kensei shot back, struggling to keep his temper in check. “Now shut up and let me talk to your client.” He turned his attention to Mabashi, who looked nervous. “You sold fentanyl to Hanakari Jinta, didn’t you?”

Mabashi swallowed, looking young and scared. “Yes.”

“How long had that been going on?”

“Just a couple of weeks.”

“And you know that Jinta is dead now?”

“Yeah, but not from the drugs!” Mabashi burst out. “I saw on the news. He was done by that serial killer who’s been snatching kids.”

“Did you sell to Shibata Yuuichi? Wonderweiss Margera? Mirokumaru Senna? Kanazaki Ririn?”

Mabashi’s eyes shifted a little. “I don’t remember the names of all my buyers.”

Kensei bared his teeth. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Mabashi. I can get you thrown in jail faster than you can spit, and I know you’re lying. Did you sell to them?”

“Okay, okay, yes! I sold to all of them!”

Kensei sat back. “Was that so hard?”

“Fuck, man, next thing I know you’ll be saying I killed them! I didn’t wanna tell you ’cause I know how suspicious it looks, that all the dead kids bought from me, okay?”

Kensei smiled his crazy grin. “I know you didn’t kill them. You ain’t got the brains for something like that, Mabashi. Now, where do you get your drugs?”

Mabashi clammed up immediately.

“Tell me, Mabashi.”

“I can’t,” the boy pleaded. “I tell you my supplier’s name and I get chopped up into the next batch of drugs, okay?”

Kensei sighed, rolling his eyes. “We’ll come back to that later. On the morning of January 29th, did you hear from Jinta?”

“He called me early, said his dad had found his stash and he needed more.”

“And? Did you see him?”

“Yeah, I saw him, but I didn’t give him shit. He didn’t have money. Kept saying he would get it to me, but I don’t do that. It’s cash up front and nothing else.”

“Then what happened?”

Mabashi shrugged. “He cussed me out a little and then left. I never saw him again.”

Kensei pulled a photo out of his pocket and slid it across the table. “Do you recognize this symbol?”

The boy cocked his head, orange bangs falling over his forehead. “No, I don’t think so.”

Kensei studied him, but Mabashi seemed sincere. Oddly enough, the lawyer, Ugaki, shifted a little, his face paling as he stared at the photo. Kensei caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and filed it away for later.

“We can offer protection from your supplier if you tell us who it is. Think about if you’d like to talk, or if you’d rather take your chances in prison,” Kensei told Mabashi, who whitened.

“You said you’d get my charges reduced if I talked about Jinta,” the boy protested.

“For your information to be of any use we have to know your chain of command,” Kensei snapped. “That’s all for now. Think it over, and we’ll talk later.”

 

Shuuhei pushed himself up into a sitting position, wincing at the throb in his abdomen. He touched a hand to his face, gently feeling the healing scars. Just over a week had passed since he’d woken up after surgery, and the day before, his facial stitches had been removed.

True to what the doctor had said, the vision in his right eye was significantly worse than it had been before, and it was hard for him to get used to. His depth perception had been whacked and though he would eventually adjust, Shuuhei had already broken four glasses by reaching for them too aggressively, thinking they were farther away than they really were. It was humbling and depressing at the same time.

Kensei had visited nearly every day, which had surprised him. He hadn’t thought his older partner cared at all what happened to him, and honestly he still couldn’t really tell, since every time Kensei came most of what he talked about was his progress on the case, which hadn’t been much. Privately, Shuuhei suspected Kensei was suffering without him to balance his hotheadedness, but he was smart enough not to say as much.

Painfully, Shuuhei made his way to the bathroom to pee, studying his reflection in the mirror with distaste as he washed his hands. He’d never been vain, but before the attack he had considered himself to be rather good-looking. Now, all he could pay attention to were the three scars that ran down the right side of his face. They looked awful to him, and were part of the reason he hadn’t bothered to call Renji and tell him he was in the hospital. He didn’t want the redhead to see him disfigured like this.

Shuuhei reached up and thumbed his tattoo. There was no way Kensei hadn’t noticed it by now, but he had neglected to bring it up, which relieved Shuuhei as much as it bothered him. Wasn’t he curious? Kensei wasn’t the type to keep quiet about something he wondered about.  Shuuhei dried his hands and opened the bathroom door, surprised to see the man he’d just been thinking about entering the room. “Kensei.” He leaned heavily on the bathroom handle as a wave of pain throbbed through his middle, trying to keep it from his expression.

Kensei noticed anyways. “Need a hand?”

Shuuhei bit the inside of his cheek hard, making his way towards the bed. “No, I’m good.” Right as the words left his mouth he felt his knees buckle. “Fuck.” Kensei’s strong hands caught him around the upper arm before he could hit the ground, supporting him back to the bed. Even so, Shuuhei hit his knee on the side of the bedframe hard enough to bruise. Kensei helped him back into the bed and Shuuhei reached down to rub the sore knee gingerly.

It was the first time Kensei had seen his face without the bandages and stitches, and the silver-haired man studied him for a minute. “Nice look,” he said finally, smirking.

Shuuhei rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. It fucking sucks. I can barely see shit on my right side, and it’s fucking up my depth perception. Plus I look like Frankenstein’s monster. Yeah, it’s a really nice look.”

Kensei sat down in his usual chair, propping one leg over the other as he grinned. “What, you scared yer boyfriend won’t like you anymore?”

The younger man’s head jerked up and his face whitened with shock. “I—boyfriend?” He winced, knowing instantly that he’d made a mistake. Most straight men would have taken immediate offense to being mistaken for gay. “I mean, I’m not—”

“I saw him that first morning I came to pick you up,” Kensei interrupted. “Relax, kid. It ain’t a big deal.”

“Maybe not to you,” Shuuhei snapped. “Which, by the way, it _should_ be. You were a fucking Marine, they’re the most homophobic assholes in the military. I can’t be a cop and have people know I like fucking men, okay? The sissy jokes’ll never stop, and I might even get fired.”

Something flickered over Kensei’s face, but it was gone before Shuuhei could catch what it had meant. “Believe me, I know some straight men who are the biggest sissies you’ve ever seen, and some gay men who are the toughest bastards you’ve ever seen. Look at Shinji—he may be skinny but he can kick ass harder than anyone I know, and it’d be kinda hypocritical for him to fire ya.” Kensei flashed him a crooked grin. “But I won’t out you if that’s the way you feel. I ain’t that much of an ass.”

“Don’t you care?” Shuuhei’s face was guarded. He hated this part of coming out, but he had to know if it would change his relationship with his partner.

“What the fuck do you think?” Kensei shot back lazily. “Keep yer dick to yerself and I couldn’t care less.”

Shuuhei snorted. “Eloquent as ever, but you’ve got a deal.” He changed the subject, eager to stop talking about his sexual preferences. “Mabashi still not talking?”

Kensei sighed. “No, but no other kids have disappeared either. I think there’s some kind of connection between Mabashi and the kids who disappear, but I can’t figure out what. I know he’s not killing them. He’s too much of an idiot to be the mastermind behind something like that. But every kid who’s died was buying from him, and I doubt that’s a coincidence.”

“You find out anything on that lawyer creep?”

“Ugaki? Not much. A couple of his cases have been kinda shady, but nothing outright illegal. Works for a firm called Bount & Company, but I haven’t had time to check them out much yet.”

“Well, I should be able to go home soon and then I can give you a hand. Doctors say I’m healing quickly. Has Kazeshini been giving you any trouble?” Shuuhei had given Kensei his keys the day he’d woken up so the big Doberman could be fed and walked, and he worried how his pet was doing, all alone every day.

“Nah, he’s a good dog. He’s lonely without you, though, so I was thinkin’ of taking him over to my place, see if he gets along with Tachikaze. That okay with you?”

“I dunno if that’s a good idea. He’s skittish around other dogs sometimes.”

“C’mon, I can handle him. Tachikaze won’t fight if I tell him to back down, and breaking up a dog fight is probably the least dangerous thing I’ve had to do in years.” Kensei grinned crookedly. “He’s a mess without you, kid. He don’t know where you’ve gone and I can’t explain it to him, so maybe some time around me and Tachikaze would do him good.”

Shuuhei sighed. “I guess so, if you think you can deal with him.”

“I’ll letcha know how it goes.” Kensei got to his feet. “Rest up, kid, and don’t sweat the eye. We’ll set you straight.”

Shuuhei snickered a little at the choice of words, and Kensei scowled.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Stay as gay as you want, brat.” The big man left the room, waving over his shoulder at Shuuhei, who relaxed onto his pillows, staring up at the ceiling. The worst part of being in the hospital was the irrevocable boredom that came with recovery.

 

After a lot of wary circling and stiff-legged posturing, Tachikaze and Kazeshini had seemingly become best friends, though Kensei couldn’t figure out if it was because Kazeshini had been so lonely lately or if they genuinely liked each other. Nevertheless, he started taking them both on his morning runs, effectively tangling the leashes and tripping himself several times until he got the hang of it.

Another week crept by, and Kensei had hit multiple dead ends in his investigation, making him irritated and more taciturn than usual. The whole department, even Shinji, had started to avoid him because he did nothing but snap at them. The only high point of his day now was visiting Shuuhei, and Kensei refused to admit, even to himself, that he enjoyed spending time with his young partner.

The day Shuuhei was to be released arrived and Kensei showed up to help him home, holding a change of clothes for him under one arm. The hospital had thrown out Shuuhei’s bloodstained shirt and pants, and Kensei figured he wouldn’t want to go home in a hospital gown.

The young man was on his feet when Kensei arrived at his room, and he accepted the clothes with thanks, disappearing into the bathroom to change.

Kensei loitered by the bed, waiting for Shuuhei to reemerge. When he didn’t, the older man rapped on the bathroom door. “Hey, kid, you okay in there?”

Shuuhei finally opened the door, his jeans on but still bare-chested. He looked embarrassed, a dull pink flush rising over his cheeks. “I…can’t put on my shirt. My stitches strain too much when I try to pull it over my head.”

The sight of Shuuhei’s bare chest, even though his middle was bandaged tightly, was doing funny things to Kensei, which he did not appreciate at all. “Uh…okay, here,” he stammered, taking the shirt from Shuuhei and easing it over his head, careful not to scrape against the newly healed scars on his face. Together, with a lot of pained sounds from Shuuhei and some creative cursing from Kensei, they wrestled the younger man’s arms through the sleeves. “I shoulda thought to bring you a button-up,” Kensei commented.

“Next time I get stabbed you can do that,” Shuuhei said dryly. “Come on. I can’t wait to get out of here.”

They signed him out after explicit instructions from one of the nurses to return in five days for the removal of his stitches, and Kensei drove them to his apartment so they could pick up Kazeshini.

The Doberman went berserk at the sight of his master, but also seemed to sense that Shuuhei was injured, so instead of barreling into him he wriggled happily around in circles. “Wow,” Shuuhei said, awed, as the two dogs frolicked together. “I know you said they got along, but it’s weird to see it in person. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Kazeshini like this.” He gingerly crouched down to scratch his dog’s ears. “It seems sad to separate them, but there’s no choice, I guess.”

“Bring him over sometime so they can play,” Kensei suggested.

“Really? You don’t mind?”

“Nah, it’s good for Tachikaze to have a friend. I bet he gets sick of my old ass too.”

The corner of Shuuhei’s mouth turned up a little. “Y’know, you keep saying that, but you can’t be _that_ old.”

“I’m thirty-three,” Kensei muttered.

“Oh my god, you _are_ old.”

“Fuck off,” Kensei sighed, running a hand through his short-cropped hair. “C’mon, I’ll take ya home.” Leaving an unhappy Tachikaze behind, they bundled Kazeshini into the backseat of the car and Kensei drove them back to Shuuhei’s apartment, helping him up the stairs and into his living room.

Shuuhei’s face had whitened in pain by the time he sank onto his couch, and though Kensei had previously been perfectly happy leaving him to his own devices, one look at his partner’s pinched face had him changing his mind. He sighed. This kid would really be the death of him.

“Why don’t you take one of those painkillers the doctor gave you?” Kensei asked.

“No,” Shuuhei said immediately. “I’m fine. Really.”

“You’re a shit liar, kid.” Kensei sat down in one of Shuuhei’s armchairs, propping his feet up on the coffee table. Shuuhei eyed him.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re basically a cripple, and I’ve hit a dead end with our case, so I’ll keep an eye on ya for a while.” Kensei folded his arms behind his head. “And this is likely the last bit of kindness you’ll get from me, so you’d better be fucking grateful.” He grinned his crazy grin.

Shuuhei actually looked relieved. “That would be…really helpful, actually. But I can ask someone else if you don’t want to.”

Kensei shrugged. “I’m already here.”

“You want a beer? They’re probably, uh, _really_ old, but I bet they’ll still be okay.”

“Yeah, sure. No, stay the fuck where you are, I’ll get it.” Kensei dug in the fridge, pulling out two beers and wrinkling his nose at the sickly smell of overripe fruit. “Damn, it looks like the food in here evolved.”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be a bitch to clean out,” Shuuhei called from the living room. When Kensei left the kitchen he saw his young partner’s head tipped back against the couch, eyes closed. When Kensei nudged a cold bottle against his neck, Shuuhei jumped, eyes flying open as he yelped.

“If you’re not gonna take your damn painkillers, drink one of these,” Kensei told him, sitting beside him on the couch and popping his beer open. Shuuhei shrugged and did the same, taking a long pull, then making a face.

“They’re kinda flat.”

“I’ve drunk worse.”

Four beers, a pizza, and half a ridiculously fake cop show later, Kensei was feeling pleasantly buzzed, and Shuuhei no longer looked like he was about to faint from pain.

Shuuhei broke the silence between them at last. “What happened to your last partner?” he asked quietly, barely audible over the sound of the television.

Kensei smiled without humor. “Thought you could read me and know everything there is to know about me.” Shuuhei didn’t answer, and he glanced over to see his partner looking at him expectantly. He sighed. “I’ll answer if you play a game with me.”

Shuuhei snorted. “Thought you weren’t gay.”

“Not that kind of game, you pervert,” Kensei snapped, embarrassed. “I’ll answer a question for you, then you answer a question for me, then we repeat. You wanna know about me, I get to know about you.”

Shuuhei worried his bottom lip between his teeth for a minute, and Kensei caught himself thinking the word _cute_ , so he looked away quickly.

“Fine. What happened to your last partner?”

“She was captured and tortured until she lost her mind by a guy we were after a few years ago. She’s been in a mental hospital ever since.” The words came out in a rush, and he hoped Shuuhei wouldn’t say ‘I’m sorry’ or something else lame like that. Kensei thought for a second, then asked, “Why won’t you take your damn painkillers?”

Shuuhei shifted his position a little, wincing. “I told you I grew up around a lot of addicts. I have an engrained fear that I’ll get hooked if I take anything stronger than a baby aspirin. I couldn’t say no to morphine when I was unconscious and bleeding, but now I can.”

“That’s stupid,” Kensei said flatly. “Pain doesn’t make you stronger, Shuuhei. If anything, it ages you.”

“I know…I’m not doing it to be tough or anything. I just can’t bring myself to take them.”

“Will you take ibuprofen or something if I bring it?”

“I…maybe.” Shuuhei scratched gently at his healing facial scars. “Let me think…how long were you in the military?”

“Eight years.” Kensei gathered his courage, glancing over at Shuuhei, who was watching him with his dark, impassive eyes. “Why do you have a tattoo that matches one of mine?”

Rather than looking surprised or angry, Shuuhei just seemed resigned. “I knew you’d ask that sooner or later. Do you remember fifteen years ago, you saved a boy who had wandered into the middle of the highway?”

Kensei furrowed his brow, thinking hard. “I…yeah, sorta. It was a long fuckin’ time ago…that was you?” He did some quick math in his head. “At six years old?”

Shuuhei actually smiled a little. “Yeah, that was me. You tackled me out of the way of a car like in a movie and your shirt got ripped a little. I saw the tattoo on your chest and when I was fifteen I had my buddy Renji tattoo it on me. In retrospect the face was probably a bad idea, since I have to cover it every day for work, but I was young and stupid, I didn’t care.”

Kensei laughed in wonder, still trying to wrap his head around what Shuuhei had told him. “I remember it now. It was right before I joined the Marines.” He snorted. “I can’t believe I yelled at a six-year-old kid to stop crying after he almost died.”

Shuuhei chuckled as well. “Yeah, well, I thought you were the coolest guy I’d ever seen, and as a kid I dreamed and dreamed of meeting you again so I could thank you.” He looked over at Kensei slyly. “Too bad I _did_ meet you again and found out you were actually lame as hell.”

“Fuck off, brat.” Kensei kicked him lightly in the shin. “Wait, Renji? Isn’t that your boyfriend? You’ve been with the same guy since you were fifteen? Damn.”

“I thought it was my turn to ask,” Shuuhei protested.

“Asking about your love life doesn’t count,” Kensei argued back. “I don’t actually care about it.” Shuuhei rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. Either way, Renji’s not my boyfriend. We’re old friends and he…helps me out sometimes.”

Kensei raised his eyebrows, guessing what Shuuhei meant by ‘help.’ “So you’re fuck buddies.”

Shuuhei grimaced. “I guess. Now shut up so I can think of something to ask.” He yawned widely, shuddering as the scars on his face stretched unpleasantly.

“We can pick it up another time,” Kensei suggested. “You should go to bed.” He got to his feet, swaying a little, and helped Shuuhei up too, carefully helping him to his bedroom.

“You can’t drive home,” Shuuhei protested sleepily. “Captain Hirako will kill you if you get a DUI. Stay here, I can sleep on the couch.”

“Fuck, no, you’re the one who got stabbed, and I’m not sleeping on your sex sheets,” Kensei grunted, hauling Shuuhei’s heavy body onto the bed. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“You’re gross,” Shuuhei murmured, eyes already drifting closed. “Dog?”

“He’s right here.”

“No, your dog. T’chikaze.”

“He has plenty of food, and I let him out before we left. Quit worrying and go to sleep, dumbass.”

“Kazeshini, guard,” Shuuhei said sleepily, and the Doberman obeyed, trotting to the front door to sit at attention. “G’night, Kensei.” His head lolled to the side a little on the pillow as he drifted off.

Kensei blamed the beer for making him stand there for longer than he should have, watching Shuuhei sprawled across the bed as he slept. The furrow that was almost always present between the younger man’s eyebrows had smoothed out and his lips were gently parted, leaving his face relaxed and youthful despite his scars. His shirt was riding up a little, exposing sharp hipbones and the bottom of the bandage that was still wrapped around his stomach.

Against his will, Kensei felt his body moving forward, bracing a hand on the bed as he leaned closer, his heart pounding. The sober and alert part of his brain was screaming at him to stop, but something else was overriding it as Kensei dropped his head, gently pressing his lips to the younger man’s parted ones.

He drew back almost immediately. Shocked and disgusted with himself, Kensei stepped away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, backing up until he was through the doorway and then lying down shakily on the couch.

“No fucking way,” Kensei muttered to himself. “I did not just kiss another guy.” His mind kept flashing back to the one man he’d ever had sex with, a nameless Marine he’d angrily fucked in the hazy aftermath after Rose’s death. He barely remembered it, but the feelings he’d felt then were vastly different from what he felt now, and he knew for a fact he’d never kissed the other man—had never _wanted_ to. So what the fuck did that mean? Rather than think about it more, he shut his eyes and tried to sleep, hoping the nightmares would be held at bay that night.


	4. Chapter 4

Shuuhei woke to throbbing pain that had become second nature over the past few weeks, but he was pleased to note that it was less sharp than before. Raising his head from his pillow, he blinked, disoriented, before realizing he was actually in his own bed rather than his hospital room. He was also fully clothed, and his jeans had been cutting into his legs and groin all night.

Gingerly, Shuuhei got up and unbuttoned his pants, kicking them off and trading them for sweats. He was pleased to find that he could now awkwardly wriggle out of his shirt without someone else’s help, and after he had changed the bandages around his middle he went into the living room to check on Kensei.

Kensei had gone, but there was a short note on the coffee table saying he was going to go take care of Tachikaze and would be back later to go over some of the investigation notes.

Shuuhei managed to actually drive himself to the grocery store and buy some food, though he could only carry a small amount at a time to avoid tearing his stitches, so the trip took three times as long as it should have. Kensei showed up again when he was halfway done with cleaning out the refrigerator, a bandana tied around the lower half of his face to try to mask the smell of rotted food.

“It smells like something died in here,” Kensei commented. He was in workout clothes and had clearly just been on a run.

“You smell just as bad,” Shuuhei shot back, his voice muffled. “God, why didn’t you shower? Gross.”

“I didn’t shower because I got a weird phone call I wanted to talk to you about.”

Shuuhei pulled his head out of the fridge, tugging down the bandana. “Weird how?”

“It sounded like a woman, but I’m not completely sure. She said she has some information for us.”

“And? What was it?”

“Didn’t say. She just gave me an address, time, and date and said to be there.”

Shuuhei’s dark eyes narrowed. “Sounds like a trap.”

“Yeah, but what choice do we have? If it’s halfway legit, we’re so strapped for info at this point we could really use any help we can get.”

“When is it?”

“She said next week. Thursday.”

“I’m coming too.” Kensei opened his mouth to object, but Shuuhei kept talking. “I get my stitches out on Monday and believe me, you want me there if you’re meeting someone for information.”

Kensei’s amber eyes narrowed. “And why is that?”

Shuuhei just stared him down. “Just trust me. You want me there.”

Kensei held eye contact with him for a while longer, and Shuuhei could practically see the gears turning in his mind. Finally: “Fine,” Kensei said. “But we’re going in with plenty of undercover backup.”

“Of course.”

“Shinji also called. He told me that if you feel up to it, you can return to desk work as soon as you’re ready. Nothing strenuous.” Kensei dug in his pocket, pulling something out and tossing it to Shuuhei, who caught it just in time. “There’s some Tylenol. Take it or I’ll shove it down your throat.”

“I don’t even take this stuff for headaches,” Shuuhei protested.

“You got stabbed—it’s a little different from a headache,” Kensei snapped back. “Just take one. I’ll hold onto the bottle if it makes you feel better.”

Reluctantly, Shuuhei obeyed, washing the pill down with a glass of water and then handing the bottle back to Kensei. The strain of carrying groceries had made his wound start throbbing again, and he leaned back against the counter carefully, waiting for the painkillers to kick in.

“I’ll come back to work in two days,” Shuuhei suggested. “I should be well enough by then.”

“Sounds good,” Kensei said, and then they both jumped as a series of hard knocks thundered against the door.

“Shuuhei!” someone was calling through the thick wood. “Open the fucking door!”

Kazeshini growled menacingly and Kensei reached for his hip, only to remember he didn’t have his service weapon on him right then.

“It’s okay,” Shuuhei said. “It’s just Renji.” He winced inwardly, knowing Renji was about to tear him a new one for breaking off contact for so long. He eased the door open and an angry redhead stormed in, his heavily tattooed forehead making him seem even more threatening.

“Where the _fuck_ have you been?” Renji snarled, then stopped short. “What the hell happened to your face?”

Shuuhei clapped a hand over the scars self-consciously, stepping back as Renji moved in for what was clearly going to be a hug.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I…got stabbed. That’s why I haven’t been here. I was in the hospital.”

“ _What?”_

Kensei cleared his throat. “Uh…I’ll give you two some privacy.” He squeezed past Renji, who glared at him, and left the apartment.

Renji turned back to Shuuhei. “Who’s that?”

“My partner. The detective.”

“So your work partner knows where you were and what happened, but you didn’t bother to tell me? What the fuck, Shuuhei? Do you have any idea how worried I was about you? I thought you had finally offed yourself! God!” Renji carefully cupped his face in an uncharacteristically tender gesture, tracing the scars with his thumb.

“I…didn’t want you to see me like this,” Shuuhei muttered, feeling guilty. He had meant to call Renji, he really had, but every time he’d thought of it something else distracted him.

“I’ve seen you curled up in the corner, shaking, holding your head and crying because it hurt so much,” Renji snapped. “And you were afraid to face me because now you have some more scars?”

“It was stupid, I know!” Shuuhei growled, unhappy at being reminded of his weakness. “I’m sorry, I really am. I have no excuse.”

Renji relaxed a little. He was hotheaded, like Kensei, and often flew into unpredictable rages, but he cooled down quickly. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” He looked over Shuuhei’s body. “You are okay, right?”

“I’ll be fine in a few days,” Shuuhei affirmed.

Renji folded his arms. “I may not be your boyfriend or have any romantic attraction to you, Shuu, but I seriously fucking love you, like a brother.” He frowned. “Who I have sex with sometimes…”

“Gross, Renji.”

“Shut up. You know what I mean. You’re one of my best friends, okay? You have to tell me when something’s wrong. I was going batshit insane.”

Shuuhei looked away, embarrassed and guilty. “I’m really sorry. I just didn’t want you to see me like this…all disfigured. Did you know I can barely see out of my right eye now? It fucking sucks. When I was first able to open the eye I kept bumping into things because my depth perception was fucked up.”

Renji grinned at him, brushing the scars with one hand. “Don’t say you’re disfigured, Shuuhei. Yeah, it sucks that you can’t see as well, but hey, if anything, these make you look hotter.”

Shuuhei grinned back, a rare look for him. “You think?”

“Hell yeah.” Renji winked. “Next time you need me I’ll be all over that, baby.”

Shuuhei sighed, leaning his head against his friend’s chest briefly. “God, I don’t deserve a friend like you.” Renji’s arms came up and squeezed him gently, careful not to hurt his wound.

“Shut up, Shuu. I’ll be there for as long as you need me, okay? Quit worrying.”

The phrase ‘quit worrying’ made Kensei, who told him that so often, flash into Shuuhei’s head, and he drew back from Renji. “I know. Thanks.”

“You need anything else? I should get back to work…I just had a lull in between appointments and wanted to check if you were here.”

“Kensei’s been helping me out, so I’m fine. Go tattoo people. I’ll call if I need you.”

Renji waved, scratched Kazeshini’s ears, and left at a jog. Kensei poked his head back inside, looking wary.

“You done making up?”

Shuuhei rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, Kensei. Now come help me clean out the fridge.”

Kensei grimaced, but the stiff way Shuuhei was walking told him he was still in pain, so he obeyed.

 

* * *

 

“A bar? She wants to meet at a bar?”

“It’s public, and there’ll be a lot of people, which means she can get away if she needs to,” Kensei reasoned. He tried to recall the strange phone call he’d received from the mystery woman. “She said she had longish brown hair and side bangs.”

Shuuhei looked sideways at him. “How descriptive. That could be any number of people.”

“Well, that’s all I have to go on. Come on, backup’s stationed. Let’s go.” Kensei got out of the car, glancing back to make sure Shuuhei was managing all right. “How’s the stomach?”

“Just a bit sore. I’m fine.”

He’s managed to convince Shuuhei to take the occasional over the counter painkiller, and it seemed to make a difference. The stitches had been removed and he was moving easier, though Kensei had noticed a weird sort of jumpiness that seemed to stem from his damaged vision. Shuuhei was twitchy every time someone approached him on his right side, and he spent most of his time moving his head from side to side to compensate for his partial blindness. Privately, Kensei thought it made him look ridiculous and a bit like he was on drugs, but he said nothing, knowing how sensitive Shuuhei was about the facial injury. It was all well and good that they had backup tonight, since Shuuhei still hadn’t been cleared on using his service gun again.

Over the past week they had learned a lot about each other through the game they were playing—Kensei had discovered that Shuuhei had been orphaned at the age of two and had grown up in orphanages and foster homes that were riddled with abusive and negligent adults and addicts before finally running away with Renji and working two restaurant jobs to put himself through college.

The bar was crowded and noisy, and Kensei felt his partner’s body tense next to him as they scanned the throng for the mystery woman. A figure sitting at one of the tables by the bar caught his attention, and Kensei leaned over to speak into Shuuhei’s ear over the noise.

“Go to the bar and get us something that’s nonalcoholic but looks like it isn’t. It’s best to blend in.”

Shuuhei nodded and disappeared, and Kensei went to the table, sitting down across from the woman seated at it. She looked up at him warily, brushing bangs out of her face.

“I’m Muguruma Kensei,” he said by way of explanation, and her face cleared.

“Yoshino. Forgive me for asking to meet here, but it’s the safest option for me.”

Shuuhei slid into the seat beside Kensei, passing him a glass of amber liquid that looked like scotch or whiskey, but when Kensei took a sip, the taste of apple juice flooded his mouth. He bit back a grimace, wishing he had thought to tell Shuuhei that he hated apple juice.

“I’m Kensei’s partner,” Shuuhei started.

“Hisagi Shuuhei,” Yoshino finished. “Pleasure.”

“What do you have for us?” Kensei asked, keeping his voice low.

“You’re looking in the wrong place,” Yoshino said, her eyes intent. “Mabashi may be involved, but he doesn’t know anything—his supplier is careful to keep him out of the loop.”

“Who is the supplier?” Kensei asked, teeth gritted. Shuuhei just studied Yoshino, his face impassive as usual.

“I can’t tell you that,” Yoshino admitted. “It could get me killed. I can direct you in the right direction, that’s all.”

Kensei leaned forward. “If we’re looking in the wrong place, where _should_ we be looking?”

Yoshino bit a lipstick-red lip. “You should be watching Bount & Company,” she whispered.

“The law firm?”

She smiled bitterly. “It’s not a law firm.”

“Are they the ones killing children?” Kensei was struggling to keep a rein on his temper. This whole meeting was turning out to be massively unhelpful.

“I don’t know,” Yoshino said sadly. “I’m not privy to all their information. I only know what I’ve heard and what I’ve guessed. But they’re involved somehow.”

Kensei grimaced in frustration. “Is there anything else you can tell us?”

“Not right now. If I have anything new, I’ll call you.”

“Can we get a contact number?”

“No. And don’t bother trying to look me up,” Yoshino smiled. “Yoshino isn’t my real name.”

The two men stood, finishing their drinks, and Yoshino gave them one last piece of advice.

“Watch out for the lawyers. They’re slippery, and they’re ruthless.”

They parted ways, Yoshino melting into the crowd, and Kensei and Shuuhei heading back to Kensei’s car. Once inside, Kensei ordered their backup to stand down and return to headquarters, then turned to his partner, eyes narrowed.

“You wanna tell me why the fuck you came along? You didn’t do shit, kid. Thought you said you would be useful.”  

Shuuhei was alarmingly pale, and he was absently massaging his forehead, but at Kensei’s angry words, he looked up. “Yoshino is Kariya Jin’s lover, and she’s terrified of him. She’s heard him with Mabashi, telling him to sell to kids between ages twelve and fifteen, who are all around five feet tall. Just like all the dead victims.”

“What? Who the fuck is Kariya? What the fuck are you talking about?” Kensei snarled.

Shuuhei closed his eyes, gritting his teeth as he held his head in his hands. “Trust me, it’s all true.”

Kensei reached out and grabbed his arm, fingers digging in tight enough to bruise. “Tell me how you know these things. Don’t bullshit me, Shuuhei, you know mountains more than you should.”

“I can’t,” Shuuhei said quietly. “You won’t believe me.”

“Try me,” Kensei growled, fighting back the urge to shake the younger man violently. “It’s my turn to ask a question anyways. _Tell me_. You can’t just ask me to trust you on something like this—I need a reason.”

“I just _know_ things,” Shuuhei finally cried. “It’s like a little explosion of fire in my brain and all of a sudden I know something, either about a person or an event, whatever. Sometimes I even get a vision, too.”

Kensei studied him. “Are you trying to tell me you’re a fucking _psychic_?”

The young man shot him a look filled with loathing and defensiveness. “I told you you wouldn’t believe me. And no, I’m not a psychic. I can’t control it, it just happens sometimes, a little flash of insight. That’s how I knew how exactly how Jinta died, and how Urahara fought with him the morning he disappeared.” He looked away. “And how I know your friend Rose died protecting you after you were shot in the hip. He was shot fourteen times in the chest and stomach, and twice in the head, all to save your life.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Kensei bit out, jerking back like he’d been burned. “Don’t _ever_ talk about that.”

Shuuhei shook his head, then hissed in pain, clutching at his temples again. “It doesn’t matter. Renji’s the only person who’s ever believed me.”

Kensei was quiet for a long time. “I never said I didn’t believe you,” he said at last, and Shuuhei looked up, an almost hopeful gleam in his eye. “There’s no way on Earth you could ever know those details about Rose, unless Shinji told you, and I know for a fact he wouldn’t.” He looked Shuuhei over, noting his ashen skin tone and the way he curled into himself in obvious pain. “I’ve seen your face when you’ve had your…flashes of insight, as you call them. Your eyes don’t focus and you go dead white—it’s creepy as fuck.” He sighed. “It hurts you, when it happens?”

“Yeah. When it happens there’s a really sharp pain in my head right here, and then it just aches for a really long time afterwards.” Shuuhei leaned his head against the cool plastic of the dashboard.

“Besides the pain, though, it seems like a…pretty lucky gift,” Kensei said, half to himself. He looked over to see Shuuhei glaring at him.

“A gift? A _gift_? _Fuck_ you, Kensei. You don’t have to deal with splitting headaches at the worst possible moments and horrifying visions of death and pain that have driven you to nearly putting a bullet in your head.” Shuuhei’s voice was icy, his dark eyes snapping with fury. “You don’t have to call your saint of a best friend in the middle of the night because your head feels like there’s a jackhammer against it and you think you might slip and blow your brains out, and he comes over to fuck your pain away even if it screws up his own relationships! This isn’t a _gift_ , Kensei. It’s a fucking curse.”

“Okay, okay, whoa, calm down.” Kensei’s eyebrows had shot up to his hairline. “I spoke too soon, okay? I didn’t mean to make ya upset.”

Shuuhei was trembling a little, looking hurt. “You have no idea what it’s like,” he said quietly.

“Hey, I may not know what it’s like exactly,” Kensei protested, “But I know a thing or two about visions of death and suffering, all right? I just relive the same one.”

Shuuhei caught his gaze for a minute, his dark eyes sympathetic. “It’s not the same,” he said finally. “But for what it’s worth, I know you at least partly understand what it’s like. Renji does his best to make it better, but he doesn’t get it.”

“I’m glad you told me,” Kensei admitted, starting the car. “I’ve been going crazy trying to figure out how you know this shit.” He pulled onto the street, glancing at Shuuhei’s white face. “You feel up to doing some research?”

The young man smiled wanly. “Yeah, I’m pretty used to pain by now. It’ll be okay. We can go to my apartment, unless there’s something you need at HQ.”

“Nah, but I’m gonna stop by my place to get my computer and Tachikaze. He’s been missing your mutt something fierce. That okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Kazeshini will be glad to see him.”

After some bullying, Kensei got Shuuhei to take a Tylenol for his head and then the young man lay back against his seat and closed his eyes until they arrived at his apartment. The two dogs greeted each other enthusiastically, and Kensei and Shuuhei settled in at Shuuhei’s kitchen table, laptops out and papers spread over the wooden surface.

“You said Kariya Jin?” Kensei asked after several moments, and Shuuhei nodded jerkily. “Looks like he’s a senior partner of Bount & Company. Creepy looking fucker.”

They worked in silence for another hour, trying to put together the jagged and disjointed pieces of the murders until Kensei noticed how pale Shuuhei was.

“You’re still in pain?”

“It’s fine,” Shuuhei said immediately, but his knuckles were white as he clutched at his temples.

Kensei leaned back in his chair, then sighed. _I can’t believe I’m about to say this,_ he thought to himself. “Go jerk off.”

Shuuhei’s elbow slipped off the table and he banged his forearm hard on the edge of the wooden surface. His cheeks flamed brick red. “What the _fuck_ , Kensei?”

Kensei felt his own cheeks warming a little, and he coughed. “Orgasms give you endorphins. That’s why you…have sex with your friend when you feel shitty, right? We need to crack this case, and that means I need you at your best. So go jerk off, give yourself a good hard orgasm, and it’ll help dull the pain in your head so you can concentrate on your work.”

Looking mortified, his face still as red as a fire engine, Shuuhei pushed his chair back. “Uh, yeah. Okay, I’ll just…go do that.”

“Don’t you dare make any noise,” Kensei called after him as he left the room. “I don’t wanna hear that shit.”

Shuuhei locked himself in his bathroom, and leaned back against the door, his face on fire. Kensei was right, but it didn’t make it any less embarrassing to be jerking off not two hundred feet from his work partner, who, against his will, he thought was really, _really_ hot.

Not wanting to keep his aforementioned partner waiting, Shuuhei tried to forget how awkward the whole situation was and ran a hand up his shirt, caressing his own stomach muscles, over the nearly healed scar from the stab wound, and up to his nipple, pinching it lightly and scratching his nails lightly over the skin of his chest. With his other hand he fumbled his pants open, gripping his half-aroused cock and fondling it to full hardness. He tried to stop thinking about Kensei, but filling his head were images of the older man doing the most mundane things—Kensei driving, his strong hands gripping the steering wheel, Kensei grinning his classic crazed grin, Kensei in his jogging clothes, his chest straining against the workout tank top he wore, the muscles in his biceps bulging.

Shuuhei panted as he started to stroke himself, fighting to keep the moans that were rising in his throat from spilling out into the air. Now he was imagining what Kensei must look like _without_ his shirt, hard, chiseled pectoral muscles that gave way to the dark, inked numbers on his chest and then further down to his rippling abdominals, and maybe a little trail of hair under his navel disappearing into the waistband of his pants.

He couldn’t stop a little whine from breaking free, so Shuuhei hurriedly clapped his free hand to his mouth to muffle anything else, and it was just as well, because _oh, God_ , now Kensei was fucking him in his mind’s eye, sliding deep into him with powerful thrusts, sending little shocks of pleasure feathering up and down Shuuhei’s spine. His strong, calloused hands were moving over Shuuhei’s chest, pinching at his nipples and then moving up further to close over his neck, squeezing just hard enough to make him dizzy.

“Oh, God,” Shuuhei moaned through his hand, doubling over as his orgasm hit with a rush of ecstasy. His breath whooshed out of his lungs and he cupped the stroking hand over the end of his bucking cock to try to avoid making a mess as semen shot from the tip, hitting his palm with its wet heat.

Panting, Shuuhei pulled some toilet paper off the roll and wiped himself clean, then leaned his head back against the bathroom door, closing his eyes as he tried to regain his breath. He hadn’t even told Renji about _that_ particular kink, though he’d always dreamed of trying it with someone.

“Fuck,” Shuuhei whispered, rubbing his face. He couldn’t quite believe he’d just jerked off to his partner. He’d admired and thought about Kensei for years, but had never allowed those feelings to develop. In his mind, he had built the man who’d saved him up into a hero, only to have his perceptions of him shattered when he was able to get to know him in person, and strangely, Shuuhei preferred the real Kensei to the perfect, heroic one of his fantasies. But now he had broken his own unspoken rule by acknowledging the crush that had been developing over the past few weeks, and the thought left a bad taste in his mouth. There was nothing worse than crushing on a straight guy.

Shuuhei fastened his pants again and washed his hands, pleased to realize that his headache had indeed diminished greatly. He rejoined Kensei out in the kitchen, willing his cheeks not to turn red.

“Feel better?” Kensei asked, smirking at him. He had a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose, and Shuuhei thought they made him look irritatingly sexy.

Shuuhei sat down at the table again, placing his palms flat on the wood. “If you _ever_ tell anyone that you told me to jerk it to get rid of a headache, I’ll—”

“What?” Kensei snorted, still grinning wickedly. “Blush at me?”

“I’ll tell everyone about how _nice_ you can be,” Shuuhei teased.

“Over my dead body,” Kensei growled, and Shuuhei flashed him a little grin.

“Did you find anything else?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah, actually. Look what used to be the logo for Bount & Company.” Kensei turned his laptop so Shuuhei could see the screen, and the younger man’s eyes widened.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. “That same crest that’s been carved on all the victims.”

“If they’re the ones killing the kids, they can’t be stupid enough to cut their own former symbol into them, can they?”

“I doubt it,” Shuuhei mused. “Unless they’re just overconfident that they won’t get caught. I mean, it’s not like we have any proof it’s them...just suspicion.”

“It’s definitely not enough for a warrant,” Kensei agreed. “Look for more dirt on Kariya. Something tells me he’s a shady bastard.”

“Well, he’s never been arrested,” Shuuhei said after a few minutes, squinting at his computer screen. “In fact, there’s not much about him at all.”

“This is fuckin’ useless,” Kensei growled, throwing his reading glasses down and rubbing his eyes. “We need access to their files or something to get evidence for a warrant, and we can’t get access to them _without_ a warrant.”

Shuuhei watched his partner for a moment, biting his lip. “I think I know how to get them,” he said at last.

“What? How? Your…superpower?”

“No, don’t be stupid, Kensei, I told you I can’t control that. But…I can’t tell you what I’m thinking either. It could get me arrested. I’ll take care of it though, okay?”

Kensei frowned. “I can’t let you do something illegal, even if it’ll help.”

“Do you want to catch this guy or not?” Shuuhei snapped. “At this point I don’t care if it makes me crooked, I just don’t want any more kids to die. Besides, if I handle it right, it won’t point back to me, and at least we’ll have the information we need.”

Kensei looked like he was struggling with his thoughts, but at last he gave a reluctant nod. “I guess it’s not like you were ever a _straight_ cop anyway, huh?” he said with a smirk, and Shuuhei rolled his eyes.

“Oh my god, will you stop with the gay jokes already? You’re like a dog with a bone.” Kensei’s grin widened and Shuuhei backpedaled quickly, wishing he hadn’t used the word _bone_. “Shut the fuck up, you pervert. Are you like this with Captain Hirako?”

Kensei leaned back in his chair, still grinning wildly. “Nah, he’s usually the ones making the jokes. You always give me a good reaction, though…and besides, you started it.”

Shuuhei’s head thumped down onto the table. “I hate you.”

“I know ya do, kid,” Kensei chuckled.

Shuuhei sighed. “Let’s call it a night and I’ll work on getting their files.”

Kensei made a warding gesture at him. “Fine, fine, just don’t tell me about it. What I don’t know I can’t report, right?” He packed up his computer and papers and whistled for Tachikaze, who came trotting out of Shuuhei’s bedroom with Kazeshini. “Sorry, bud, we gotta go,” Kensei told the dog, clipping his leash on. “I’ll see ya tomorrow, hey?”

Shuuhei nodded. “Good night.” He waited until Kensei had driven away before pulling out his phone and dialing in a number. “Akon, it’s Shuuhei,” he said when the other person picked up. “Sorry to call so late, but I need a favor. Are you still a first-rate hacker?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been forever...I'm not dead, I promise. I'll be the first to admit I'm terrible about updating; sometimes I have no inspiration and I'm also a somewhat functional adult with a full time job, etc...let's get on with it, though!

“I don’t know about this,” Shuuhei said, looking unhappy.

“If you’re gonna keep being a cop you have to be able to fire your weapon accurately,” Kensei argued. “Now c’mon. Let’s see how much being half-blind has made you suck.”

“You don’t need to say it like that,” Shuuhei grumbled as they entered the shooting range.

“It’s payback for you callin’ me nice,” Kensei said roughly, jamming his earplugs in.

Shuuhei followed suit, then drew his service gun, checking it and then clicking off the safety. Carefully, he widened his stance and brought the gun up level, his left hand bracing the bottom. Kensei watched his shoulder and arm muscles tense as he squeezed off a shot, then looked down the lane to check.

“Are you serious?” he asked Shuuhei loudly so he could hear through his earplugs. The shot had gone wide—completely wide, apparently, since there was no mark on the target.

Shuuhei cringed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve fired my gun, okay?” He tried again, and this time the bullet connected, though it was still far from the center of the target, and the next five shots were no better. Shuuhei laid down his gun and raked a hand through his spiky hair, looking frustrated. “This is bullshit. I was a crack shot before my stupid eye got fucked up. I’ll never be able to shoot straight again.”

Kensei snorted. “Didn’t figure you to give up so easily.” He stepped forward. “Pick up your gun, Shuuhei.” When the younger man obeyed, Kensei moved behind him, putting his arms around him and grasping his forearms.

Shuuhei seemed to stiffen a little, but he let Kensei adjust his stance, and Kensei tried not to think about how it felt to have his young partner’s back flush against his chest, and he _definitely_ wasn’t thinking about how close his groin was to Shuuhei’s ass.

“Okay,” Kensei murmured, his chin almost resting on Shuuhei’s shoulder. “Look down the barrel—no, don’t close that bum eye, it just puts strain on the other one—aim…maybe a little more to the left, hey?” His hands held Shuuhei’s arms steady. “Now fire.”

Shuuhei obeyed, and when a neat hole appeared in the center of the target, he blurted out, “Holy shit, look at that.”

“See? You just need to adjust.”

Shuuhei turned his head to say something, the little grin on his face falling when the motion put his and Kensei’s faces close enough that they bumped noses lightly. For a moment neither of them moved, and Kensei was very conscious of the heat of Shuuhei’s body blazing through their clothing and the firm feel of his muscles under his hands. He thought he saw the younger man’s eyes flick down to glance at his lips and then back up, and Kensei realized with a bit of dim shock that Shuuhei was a tiny bit taller than him. Then the moment passed and they both hastily stepped away from each other.

“Uh…just…try it on your own, now,” Kensei said, trying to forget how Shuuhei’s body had felt pressed against his own.

“Right.” Refusing to meet his eyes, Shuuhei turned back to the target, resuming his stance and squeezing off another shot. It didn’t hit the center, but it was far closer than the first few shots had been.

“You’re gettin’ the hang of it,” Kensei said approvingly, crossing his arms over his chest and choosing to ignore the weird tension that had bloomed between them.

“Yeah,” Shuuhei answered quietly. “Yeah, I’ll get it eventually.”

* * *

 “Why aren’t you married?”

Kensei looked up from his desk, surprised at the question. It had been two days since they’d continued their truth game because Shuuhei had insisted he needed time to think of a good question. “What?”

“You’re old as fuck. Why aren’t you married?”

“Shut up, only I’m allowed to call myself old,” Kensei groused. He leaned back. “I dunno. I haven’t met anyone I like enough to marry, I guess. And I don’t have time for shit like that. What kinda wife would want to wait around, takin’ care of my dog while I work my ass off trying to catch criminals?”

“Well, I certainly can’t think of any woman who would put up with your disgusting personality,” Shuuhei shot back, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, there has to be a better reason than that.”

Kensei sobered a little, knowing he owed Shuuhei a proper answer. “I haven’t been able to sleep in the same bed as someone ever since the military. I hardly sleep anyways, and when I do, the nightmares…” He swallowed, looking over at Shuuhei, whose face was, predictably, impassive as always. “During past relationships, a few times I’ve woken up in the middle of the night to find my hands around my girlfriend’s neck, thinking she’s trying to attack me or some shit—not many of them stay after something like that. Tachikaze’s the only one I’ve been able to ever sleep in the same bed with.”

“So you refuse yourself love because of your PTSD?” Shuuhei asked, the tone of his voice halfway accusatory and halfway understanding.

“It’s not that,” Kensei snapped. “Not completely. I don’t need a wife or girlfriend to be happy with my life, okay? I have my work, I have my friends, I have my dog, and I have my right hand, or the odd one night stand if I want to fuck another body. That’s all I need.”

“That’s…gross, but kind of nice. You’re gonna die alone, though,” Shuuhei said flatly. “Have fun with that.”

“You’re one to talk,” Kensei shot back. “I don’t see _you_ with a boyfriend, just a fuck buddy.”

“I’m twelve years younger than you,” Shuuhei scoffed. “I have time to find someone. You’re running out of it, old man.” He grinned.

“Fuck off, brat.”

There was a knock at the office door and they both stopped arguing and looked up.

“Hey, Lisa.” Kensei greeted the slender, dark-haired woman who was standing in their doorway. “What is it?”

“Something was mailed to us anonymously. It has the both your names on the envelope.” Lisa handed the envelope to Shuuhei, who was nearest to the door.

Shuuhei waited until Lisa was gone to open the lumpy envelope, tipping a flash drive into his hand. The younger man plugged it into his computer, his dark eyes moving over the screen intently for a few minutes before widening.

“Yoshino was right,” Shuuhei breathed. “They’re not a law firm.”

Kensei was out of his chair in a heartbeat, looking over Shuuhei’s shoulder. “That’s data from Bount & Company?”

Shuuhei nodded. “The law firm is a front. They _are_ actually lawyers, but it’s mainly a shell corporation to cover up the fact that they’re…holy shit, they’re a drug cartel.”

“How the fuck do we not know this?” Kensei asked in wonder.

“No one ever suspected them of anything,” Shuuhei answered, still scrolling through the files. “And they’re damn good at covering their tracks. Someone must have hacked into their computers.” He winked at Kensei, who was staring at him knowingly.

“Imagine that,” the silver-haired man said lightly. “Just what we needed.” Shuuhei smirked back at him and then they both turned their attention back to the computer screen.

“Look, eight months ago they bought twelve kilos of fentanyl…looks like they’ve also bought heroin, ketamine, MDMA, GHB…apparently they have a thing for opiates and date rape drugs.”

“All the dead kids are on that client list?”

“Yep.” Shuuhei leaned back in his chair. “I don’t get how that’s connected though. Obviously Bount & Company is supplying dealers like Mabashi, and then if they get arrested, like he did, they plant their lawyers in with them. That creep Ugaki must’ve made it clear to Mabashi how much he could tell you. They don’t care if Mabashi goes down, as long as he doesn’t reveal their identities.” He rubbed his forehead in frustration. “But it doesn’t make sense to kill their own clients, much less carve their former crest on them. Dead clients don’t pay.”

Kensei rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I have a feeling the symbol doesn’t mean as much as we think it does. Or it means something _different_ than we think it does.”

“Let me see if there’s anything about it in these files,” Shuuhei said. “It took some digging to find it in the first place, right? It’s almost like they tried to erase any records of it.”

“Look for that later,” Kensei ordered. “Show me the client list again.”

Shuuhei obeyed, pulling up the page. “What if we planted a client?” he suggested after a moment of thought. “I know they only have contact with the dealers, but maybe they could learn something. It’s worth a shot, right?”

“We can’t plant someone underage,” Kensei argued, then broke off, a smile creeping over his face.

“What? Stop looking scary, dude.”

Kensei picked up the phone. “I know just the person,” he said, smirking as he dialed. “This is Detective Muguruma Kensei. I need to borrow Sarugaki Hiyori. Is she in? Good. Send her to my office.”

“Who is Sarugaki Hiyori?” Shuuhei asked when he hung up.

“She’s Shinji’s half-sister. Works for Narcotics. Trust me, she’ll be able to get in there. While we’re waiting for her see if you can find another dealer in the area. I let them charge Mabashi when he refused to tell me who his supplier was, so he’s out.”

Shuuhei’s fingers clacked over the computer keyboard rapidly. “There are two brothers, Hou and Ban Li, who sell on the other side of town…that might be too far for us to get to in time if Sarugaki-san gets into trouble, though. Let me see…here. Ichinose Maki. Looks like he’s taken over Mabashi’s old turf—that’s perfect, because all the dead kids were from there. Ichinose goes to the university.” Shuuhei frowned. “I think I remember him, actually.”

“You know him?”

“Sort of. He must be in his senior year by now…he was a freshman when I graduated. We weren’t close or anything, but I remember him being in a couple of my Gen Ed classes. Kind of a quiet guy.”

“Yeah, because you’re such a chatterbox,” Kensei snorted.

Shuuhei looked up to retort, but before he could say anything, the office door crashed open and something flew through the air, hitting Kensei hard in the head. It turned out to be a shoe, hurled by a small blonde woman with freckles dusting across her nose.

“You little bitch!” Kensei roared, diving for her, and Shuuhei watched with wide eyes as the two of them grappled with each other, shouting obscenities. The woman’s diminutive stature seemed to make it hard for Kensei to get a grip on her, and she punched him twice in the face and kicked him sharply in the shin before he managed to get a hit in.

Shuuhei was starting to wonder if he should intervene when Kensei caught the woman in a wrestling hold, pinning her to the ground.

“Let me go, baldy!” she screeched, flailing as best she could. “I’ll kick your ass, dickhead!”

“Ha! Admit it, you can never beat me,” Kensei crowed, but he let her up.

She got to her feet and brushed off her clothes, then planted her hands on her hips, still glaring. “Tell me why I’m here, dickhead. I was in the middle of something.” For the first time, it seemed, she noticed Shuuhei. “Who’s this baldy?”

“Baldy?” Shuuhei blurted, but Kensei shot him a look that said to just go with it. “I’m Hisagi Shuuhei,” he told her. “Kensei’s new partner.”

“Hm!” she sniffed, looking him over disdainfully. “Sarugaki Hiyori, at your service. Now tell me why I’m here.”

“Long story short, we need you to go undercover,” Kensei said. “As a fifteen-year-old.”

“ _What!?_ ” Hiyori screeched. “You want a beautiful, voluptuous woman like me to pretend to be a teenager? There’s no way that’ll work.”

“Of course it’ll work,” Kensei snapped. “You don’t have enough curves to pass for the age you are, twerp! Ow! You bitch!” he spat when she kicked him hard in the knee.

“You have a funny way of asking me for help!” she fumed. “But fine, I’ll give it a shot. Brief me later. I’m gonna go kick Shinji’s ass.”

“Any particular reason why?” Kensei asked mildly.

“Since when do I need an excuse to beat up on that bag of dick cheese?” she scoffed, pulling her shoe back on and trotting to the door. “Bye, baldies. We’ll talk soon.”

“Well,” Shuuhei said when she had gone. “She’s…graphic.”

Kensei chuckled fondly. “Hiyori’s a hellraiser for sure,” he agreed. “But trust me, she makes a great teenager. She puts her hair up in pigtails, and that little snaggletooth she has makes her fit right in.”

“She’s definitely the right height,” Shuuhei muttered. “And has the mouth of a teenage boy.”

“Hold on, just listen,” Kensei told him, grinning, and they were still for a minute, ears perked up until they heard faint screaming and Shinji’s voice wailing. “She’s a firecracker, all right,” Kensei said, laughing.


	6. Chapter 6

Kensei thought that Shuuhei looked surprised at how much Hiyori did look like a child when she traded her professional work attire for yellow flip flops, red track pants, and a white t-shirt. Her attitude had been the same as always when Kensei briefed her, though. The whole ordeal had taken twice as long as it should have because they dissolved into arguments five times until Shuuhei had cleared his throat loudly and brought them back on track.

Planting Hiyori as a client for Ichinose Maki would take time, but Kensei was confident enough in her abilities that he thought it would be worth it. Of course, it was possible they would solve the case before they needed her, but unless Shuuhei had one of his flashes of insight telling him who the killer was, it was highly unlikely.

“You have any plans tonight?” Kensei asked his partner as they packed up for the day. “We could keep going through those Bount & Company files if you don’t.”

“I do, actually,” Shuuhei answered, pulling on his coat. “Renji and I are meeting up with a friend from one of the foster homes we were all in together.” He saw Kensei open his mouth and kept talking hurriedly. “And don’t even think of trying to get me out of it so we can work. We’ve been working around the clock for over a week. We could both use some down time.”

“I’m your superior,” Kensei argued.

“And I’m off duty as of…two minutes ago, so you can suck it,” Shuuhei told him smugly.

“You fucking brat.”

“Bye, Kensei,” Shuuhei called as he left.

Kensei shouldered his bag and shook his head. Shuuhei was strangely chipper lately, which was good, but also kind of weird. When they had first met, he hadn’t had a problem with working around the clock—in fact, he sometimes out-worked Kensei, and that was difficult to do. He hadn’t smiled, he hadn’t shared anything about himself, and Kensei had started to think he was allergic to fun. Now Shuuhei had loosened up a little, though that possibly had to do with the fact he hadn’t had a headache in at least a week, his stab wound had completely healed, and thanks to Kensei’s help, he was now hitting the bulls eye on the target in the shooting range eight out of ten times.

Either way, Kensei decided, it was nice to see him acting almost like a typical twenty-one-year-old instead of a fifty-year-old in a younger man’s body.

Kensei stopped by Shinji’s office on his way out. If Shuuhei could kick back, he could too, and it had been a long time since he and Shinji had gotten together with the what was left of their group of old friends.

“You up for a group hang tonight?” Kensei asked his blond friend, and Shinji swiveled in his chair to face him. Kensei snorted with laughter. The captain had tissues stuffed up each nostril to stem blood flow and he looked ridiculous.

“Shut up,” Shinji said, but the nasal tone of his voice only made Kensei laugh harder.

“Hiyori got a good one in, huh?”

“It was a lucky hit,” Shinji insisted, pulling the tissues free and dabbing his nose for any stray drops of blood. “And yeah, I could use some time away from this place. You wanna go out?”

“Aww, I didn’t know you felt that way for me,” Kensei said with a grin, racking his voice up to a falsetto. Shinji threw a paperclip at him.

“Don’t forget I’ve been around you when you hadn’t showered in a week and were covered in sweat and dust,” the blond man said. “Anyone who wants to go out with you after smelling _that_ is a keeper.” He got to his feet and stretched.

“You smelled just as bad,” Kensei retorted. “But yeah, let’s go out. If Hiyori’s undercover as a kid she can’t come, though. There are too many college students who go to the bars around here. If anyone recognized her this whole thing would blow up before it started.”

Shinji shuddered. “You get to tell her why we left her out then. I’m lucky she didn’t break my nose this time—I’d hate to think what she’d do to me if I actually did something wrong.”

Normally, Kensei would have made a comment about Shinji being pussy-whipped by his own sister, but since he knew firsthand how fierce Hiyori could be, he refrained. “You call up Love and Hachi,” he told Shinji. “And I’ll get Lisa. Nine o’clock okay?”

Shinji waved him out of his office. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Kensei left their headquarters, heading home to take care of Tachikaze and shower. He called Lisa while he fed the big dog and took him on a run, and she accepted his invitation to go out with them, though he could tell from her absent tone she wasn’t completely paying attention to the call. She was probably reading one of her porn mags.

After cleaning up after his run and changing into a blue and white tank top and cargo pants, Kensei worked his old gold earrings into his left ear, and removed the retainer for his eyebrow piercing so he could put a ring in that one as well. He was pleased the holes in his ear hadn’t closed up—it had been a long time since he’d taken any time off to wear what he wanted outside work, since it was against the rules for a cop to have any visible piercings. Kensei was pretty sure he wasn’t even supposed to have a retainer, but Shinji let it slide since he knew him so well.

Shinji was waiting outside the bar with Love when Kensei arrived.

“Hey, Kensei!” Love called, waving. “It’s been forever!” They exchanged a short, manly hug while Shinji snorted.

“Straight men are ridiculous,” the blond muttered.

“It’s weird how we can work in the same place and never see each other,” Love was saying to Kensei.

“Yeah, I saw Lisa the other day and I see Hachi around now and then, but I haven’t seen your SWAT team lately.” Kensei frowned. “I guess that’s a good thing.”

“It’s always a good thing not to need a SWAT team,” Shinji cut in. “Look, there’s Lisa and Hachi. Hey!” he called, waving. A man like Ushouda Hachigen wasn’t hard to miss, and Kensei whistled under his breath. He’d forgotten how large Hachi was. Lisa was practically dwarfed beside him.

“C’mon, let’s go get wasted,” Kensei suggested. “I haven’t drunk in so long I think I’ll black out after one beer.”

“That’s what you get for working so hard,” Lisa snorted. “I never have that trouble.”

“Only because you’re always reading porn when you’re supposed to be working,” Love snickered, and she kicked him hard in the ankle. “Ow!”

* * *

 

While Kensei and his friends were catching up and getting drunk, Shuuhei was meeting up with Renji at another bar across town.

“Is Kira here yet?” Shuuhei asked, sliding into the chair across from Renji.

Renji swallowed the gulp of beer he’d just put into his mouth and shook his head. “He’s running late.”

“That’s weird. Kira never runs late.”

“He said he’d get here as soon as he could. You want a beer?”

Shuuhei sighed. “Oh, God, yes.”

Renji laughed. “I’ll get you one as a thank you for actually coming out with us for once.” He pushed himself up and went to the bar while Shuuhei studied the bar’s patrons. It had been a long time since he’d been here, but many of the customers hadn’t changed. He recognized Rangiku, who had been a few years ahead of him in college and whom he’d actually crushed on briefly before realizing he preferred men. She was teasing a short, white-haired man but caught Shuuhei looking at her and perked up, coming over to him.

“Shuuuuuuhei,” she trilled at him, clearly already three sheets to the wind.

“Hey, Rangi—oof!” He grunted as she flopped down on top of him, her arms around his neck.

“It’s been so long!” she cooed, practically strangling him in a hug.

“Yeah, hi,” he wheezed, short for breath. “How’ve you been?”

“Good! I invited my boss out tonight to try to get him to unclench but he’s still being a stick in the mud,” she pouted, wriggling in his lap before catching sight of his scars. “Are those new?”

“Yeah, I got into a bit of a scrape at work,” Shuuhei sighed. He was sick of explaining to people why he had facial scarring, so he changed the subject. “That short guy over there is your boss? And you’re into him? I thought you preferred tall guys.”

“Ew, Shuuhei, I’m not _into_ him,” Rangiku squealed. “I just wanted him to stop punishing me with extra work. He’s a slave driver,” she whined.

Renji returned then with several beers. “Hey, Rangiku!” His burgundy eyes traveled over the two of them. “You know Shuuhei likes dick, right?”

“Yeah, but he’s just so _cute_ ,” she answered, pinching Shuuhei’s cheek. “And I know he won’t grope me.”

“My legs are going numb,” Shuuhei muttered. He reached for one of the beers, downing half of it in one go. 

“Are you calling me fat?!” Rangiku smacked him, but was drunk enough to agreeably remove herself from his lap and latch herself onto Kira, who had just arrived, looking as morose as usual.

“Hey! Kira!” Renji cried, getting up to greet the blond man.

“Hey, guys. Sorry I’m late,” Kira said around Rangiku. “Hi, Rangiku.”

“As much as I’d love to stay and chat with three beautiful men, I have to go entertain a midget troll,” Rangiku sighed.

“What did you call me?” snapped a new voice, and she stiffened, turning to the small, white-haired man.

“Nothing! Look, let’s go get another drink!”

Renji chuckled as they left, and Kira sat down at the table with him and Shuuhei, taking one of the beers.

“So how’ve you been?” Renji asked, nudging him. “It’s been forever.”

“Yeah, sorry, work has been crazy,” Kira said. “But I’m doing okay. How are you guys? Whoa, Shuuhei, what happened to your face?”

“I can’t really talk about it,” Shuuhei admitted. “Work-related incident.”

Renji grinned. “The life of a police officer is so very dangerous and exciting.”

“Your job is pretty exciting too,” Kira told Renji with a small smile. “Any new stories?”

“Aside from the usual people who puke and or pass out while I’m shooting ink into their skins, not really,” Renji said, but he looked almost embarrassed.

“Why do you look like that?” Shuuhei asked.

“Like what?” Renji retorted, much too quickly.

“C’mon, what happened? Tell us!” Shuuhei prodded, finishing his beer and reaching for another.

“It’s nothing,” Renji muttered, his cheeks slightly pink. “I just…met a guy, that’s all.”

“Really?” Kira asked, looking as pleased as he ever did. “Who? How?”

Renji fidgeted, which Shuuhei thought was strange. Normally, when he met a hot guy, Renji would talk about him endlessly. He wondered what was different now.

“How do you think? I gave him a tattoo. A really fucking gorgeous one, too, by the way. He had me doing a scarlet tree over his back.”

“So you got to see him without his shirt?” Kira teased, and Renji flamed brighter.

“Oh my God, yes, and he was so hot,” the redhead moaned, putting his head in his hands. “But guess why he was getting the tattoo.”

“Why?” Shuuhei asked, not in the mood to guess.

“…To remember his dead wife.”

“Ohhh, man,” Kira said, wincing. “Good luck with that, Renji.”

The redhead looked miserable. “He was kind of an ass at first, too, but once I got some conversation going he was actually really interesting. Kind of reserved, but God, way too pretty to be straight.”

“Who was he?” Kira asked again.

Renji cringed. “Kuchiki Byakukya.”

“No way,” Shuuhei said in a low voice. “The CEO of Kuchiki Enterprises? You have a crush on someone like _that_?”

“It gets worse,” Renji moaned, laying his head on the table.

“ _How_?”

“He’s Rukia’s adoptive brother.”

“Rukia?” Shuuhei thought for a second. “You mean that really tiny girl you used to talk about all the time?”

“Yeah,” Renji said, gulping down more beer. “We were at the same orphanage until she was adopted by the Kuchikis. Then I met you guys. I haven’t talked to Rukia in years, but when I found out who Byakuya was I couldn’t help but tell him I knew her.”

“And?” Kira asked.

Renji wilted a little. “And he seemed mortified that his sister was friends with a tattoo artist.”

Shuuhei winced and Kira clicked his teeth in sympathy.

“Bad break, Renji,” Shuuhei said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “C’mon, let’s drink the sorrow away.”

“Sounds good,” Renji sighed, reaching for his beer.

Several hours later, Shuuhei stumbled out of the bar. He wasn’t actually that drunk, but Kira and Renji had gotten sloshed, and the cause of the stumble was because he was half supporting Renji’s heavy body. Kira wasn’t faring much better, but at least he could stand on his own.

“I’m gonna get you guys a cab,” Shuuhei gritted as he dragged Renji over to a bench and let him collapse onto it.

“Thanks, Shuuhei,” Kira sighed, sitting as well and leaning against Renji’s broad shoulder. While most people got louder when they drank, Kira had always clammed up more when he imbibed, and as he was dialing the taxi company, Shuuhei realized Kira had effectively steered conversation away from himself for most of the evening. That wasn’t completely unpredictable—Kira had never been what one would call wildly successful; he had trouble holding down a job sometimes and his depression often spiraled out of control, but he had refused all their attempts to help in the past and seemed to be able to keep his head above the water for the most part.

After bundling his two friends into the taxi and slipping the driver some money, Shuuhei started walking back to his apartment. It was several miles, but he welcomed the exercise after so much sitting, both at work and the bar.

* * *

 

Halfway home, Shuuhei found himself changing directions, and before he knew it he was knocking on Kensei’s door. He hoped the silver-haired man was still awake, but considering how little his partner slept in general, there was a big chance he wasn’t sleeping.

Sure enough, Kensei opened the door. “Shuuhei. What’s up? It’s like…midnight. Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Shuuhei said, scratching his neck. “I just…I was heading home from the bar but I’m not tired at all, and I felt kinda bad for bailing on you earlier.” He noticed a glint in Kensei’s eyebrow and leaned closer, squinting at the eyebrow ring.

“Did you…always have that? Oh man, I’ve gone blinder than I thought.”

Kensei laughed and stepped back to let him in. “Nah, I’ve had this for a while, I just can’t wear it at work. I took a page outta your book and went out with Shinji and some friends too. And you didn’t bail on me—you were off duty, like you said.”

Shuuhei stepped inside and leaned down to scratch Tachikaze’s ears. “Man, I must be drunker than I thought. On the way over here it made total sense to come here and do work in the middle of the night.” He looked up at Kensei, the corner of his mouth turning up in a little smirk. “Now it seems kinda silly.”

Kensei shrugged. “I don’t mind. I wasn’t sleeping or anything.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m watching a killer ocean documentary, though, if you wanna come join.”

Shuuhei sputtered with laughter. “You are such an old man.”

“Shut up,” Kensei snapped. “There are some badass sharks in it! C’mon!” He led a giggling Shuuhei to the couch and pushed him down, sitting next to him and shoving him face-first down into the cushions when he wouldn’t stop laughing.

“I gotta piss,” Shuuhei said, his voice muffled from the couch cushions. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“Through that doorway and then to the right,” Kensei said, pointing. “Hurry up, there’s about to be a—whoa!”

Shuuhei had gotten to his feet and gone two steps before his body jerked violently and with a sudden “Unh!” of pain, he collapsed.

Kensei jumped up, catching the younger man and lowering him gently to the ground before he could fall. Shuuhei was writhing so hard that his back was arching up from the ground, his hands digging into his head as he cried out in pain.

“Shuuhei! Hey! Kid!” Kensei shook him, wondering if he was having some type of seizure. If he was having a seizure he shouldn’t shake him, though, right? But seizures didn’t cause pain, did they? Kensei was a hair away from calling for an ambulance when he remembered Shuuhei’s little ‘gift.’ This wasn’t normal, though—usually Shuuhei just went kind of robotic when he felt something, but now he was whimpering in pain and writhing like a snake.

Kensei hesitantly laid a hand on Shuuhei’s head, stroking it through the spiky black hair there. “Shh, it’s okay,” he said uncertainly. He had no idea what to do in a situation like this—in the military, when someone was in pain, he put pressure on the wound and yelled for a medic. Kensei didn’t coddle, he didn’t comfort, and he most certainly didn’t stroke men’s hair. Nevertheless, now he was, running his calloused hand over Shuuhei’s head, trying to soothe his pain. It was getting to the point when he was about to pick up the phone and call an ambulance anyways when Shuuhei shuddered once and stilled, curling into a ball on his side with his head in Kensei’s lap. His shoulders were shaking a little, and Kensei wondered if he was crying.

“Shuuhei,” he said gently, pulling the younger man up into a sitting position. It was like trying to form pudding into shapes; Shuuhei was boneless, sagging against Kensei like a corpse. His wet face—he was crying, apparently—nestled briefly into Kensei’s neck until the older man hurriedly leaned him against the couch with a grunt of effort. Finally, Shuuhei moved, curling into himself, burying his head in his knees and covering it with his arms as he swayed back and forth, whimpering every now and then. “Shuuhei,” Kensei said again, fighting impatience as he pried the younger man’s arms away and dragged his head up.

Shuuhei’s face was streaked with tears and he was still trembling, his eyes red-rimmed and blank. Kensei slapped him gently on the cheek a couple times to snap him out of his reverie.

“Kid, c’mon. Talk to me. What’s wrong?” It was unsettling how much Shuuhei now resembled the six-year-old child he had once saved from being hit by a car.

Shuuhei finally looked up at him, the terror and horror stark in his white face. “Yoshino’s dead,” he whispered.


	7. Chapter 7

Kensei’s heart sank. “What?” he asked, hoping he’d heard incorrectly.

“Yoshino. She’s been murdered.” Shuuhei’s voice was hoarse, and he was still shaking so badly it was like he was vibrating.

Kensei pulled him up onto the couch and got him a glass of water, holding it to his lips when Shuuhei’s hands trembled too hard to take it from him. After a few sips, the younger man took a deep breath, rubbing his forehead with one hand.

“Tell me what you saw.”

Shuuhei opened his mouth, but what came out was, “I still have to piss really bad.”

Kensei bit back a smile and pulled Shuuhei to his feet, supporting him to the bathroom. “Can you get it from here?”

“Yeah,” Shuuhei said immediately, blushing a little. He did his business and Kensei helped him back to the couch, turning off the television so he could hear better.

“So what did you see?”

“Yoshino, stabbed thirteen times. And I didn’t just see it. I felt it. I felt everything.” Shuuhei shuddered. “What Mabashi did to me was nothing compared to that.”

“Did you see who did it?”

“Kariya Jin,” Shuuhei said immediately. “He looked so furious. He probably found out she talked to us.”

“Fuck!” Kensei swore, rubbing a hand over his face. It was bad enough that they had lost a potential key informant. The fact that a woman was dead now made it ten thousand times worse.

“I hate this,” Shuuhei bit out through gritted teeth. “I know it happened, but there’s nothing we can do.”

Kensei was quiet for a minute. “Wait here,” he said finally. “I’m going to go to a pay phone and call in an anonymous tip to the station. That’s all we can do right now. Someone from homicide besides us will have to take care of the rest. Can you tell me anything about the location?”

“I…assume it was at his house,” Shuuhei said, shutting his eyes and trying to recall the vision. “There’s…lots of mahogany furniture. Expensive-looking rugs. That’s all, I’m sorry.” He sank back into the couch cushions, his head clutched in one hand.

“Okay. Just stay there and drink your water. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Kensei pulled on his coat and left the apartment.

Shuuhei let out a breath, pain biting deep into the backs of his eyeballs and shooting through his temples. It hurt badly enough that he let out a whimper, and there was a soft clicking sound as Tachikaze approached, laying his head on Shuuhei’s knee and looking up at him with sympathetic eyes. Shuuhei smoothed his free hand over the dog’s soft head, scratching his ears gently.

Kensei returned, looking troubled. “I left the tip but you know there’s not much chance that any good will come of it. We don’t have proof and we don’t have a sure location.”

“I know,” Shuuhei said softly, still holding his head. “That’s how it always is.”

Kensei shifted uncomfortably, studying the younger man who was in obvious pain. “Do you…want me to call your friend? Renji?”

Shuuhei looked miserable. “No. I can’t ask him to do that anymore.”

“Why’s that? You two have a fight?”

“No, not at all. But…he was telling me about how he met this guy who came to the tattoo parlor he works at.”

“So?”

“So,” Shuuhei said, “He hardly talked about him. That means he likes him. _Really_ likes him. In the past, no matter who he was seeing, he’d drop everything and come to me if I called him. He could never keep a boyfriend or girlfriend because he was always cheating on them with me, even if he really liked them, and he’s too nice to keep secrets from his partners. I’m sick of being the one to fuck up all his relationships. He deserves better than that.”

“Don’t you think he’d want to help you?” Kensei asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I can’t take it anymore!” Shuuhei snapped, then hissed as his head throbbed sharply. “Even if he comes willingly, the amount of guilt I feel for always having to lean on him hurts more than my fucking head does right now. I’ll deal with it on my own.”

Kensei was quiet for a minute. Then he went to the kitchen and ran a rag under the faucet to dampen it, headed back to the living area, and crouched down by the couch. “Lie down,” he told Shuuhei, and after a minute, the younger man slowly obeyed, turning to stretch out on the couch, leaning his head back against the arm. Kensei folded the wet cloth and laid it over Shuuhei’s hot forehead and eyes. The young man sighed at the damp coolness and his tense body relaxed a little more. “Any better?” Kensei asked.

“A little,” Shuuhei murmured. Then, quieter, “I’m sorry. I should’ve just gone home.”

“Oh, shut up, kid. Don’t go all weepy on me now—I’ll think you never grew out of that snot-nosed brat I saved fifteen years ago.”

The corners of Shuuhei’s mouth twitched up a little. “Still, it seems you’re always helping me. I never help you.”

“Well, I’m not a weak-ass rookie.”

“Fuck you,” Shuuhei said with little heat, drawing in a sharp breath at a particularly strong throb of pain. “Talk to me,” he almost begged. “It helps get my mind off it.”

“It’s your turn to ask something. Ask and I’ll talk,” Kensei replied, fighting back the urge to reach out and touch Shuuhei’s face. To remove the temptation he sat on the ground with his back against the couch so he couldn’t see the young man. Tachikaze paced the area around the couch in a protective motion, and Kensei realized with amusement that the dog was guarding them.

“Right. Um…where’d you go to college?”

“I didn’t, really. The military had this thing where you could take classes online when you weren’t deployed, and I got my degree that way. When did you start having your weird little flashes of insight?”

“As long as I can remember I knew certain things about people and I couldn’t explain how or why. But I guess it was around puberty that they developed into something more…conscious, I guess, if not controllable.” Shuuhei’s voice was soft and strained. “Speaking of flashes of insight, why won’t you visit your former partner?”

Kensei stiffened. “Damn your weird ability.”

Shuuhei smiled wanly. “Sorry.”

“Shut up. I don’t visit Mashiro because…” Kensei sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “I guess partly because I feel guilty. I feel like I let her get taken and I wasn’t smart enough to get her back in time. And also…I don’t want to see her that way, all cooped up in a mental hospital, maybe even in a fucking straightjacket. I loved that girl…well, no, really, I hated her most of the time because she was annoying as all hell, but she had a good heart, and the sick fuck who tortured her took that away from her. There’s just a shell there now—Mashiro is gone.”

“You’re really fucking selfish, you know that, Kensei?” Shuuhei’s voice was mild, but his words cut deeply anyways.

“What? I mean, yeah, I’ve been told that a lot, but why?”

“You won’t visit her because _you_ feel guilty. _You_ don’t want to see her like that. Did you ever think that maybe it would do _her_ some good to see _you_? I don’t know her, but I’ve been around enough mentally ill people to know the crux of who they are never changes. Not really. She’s been hurt and traumatized, so how is avoiding her going to help her?”

Kensei had heard similar things from Shinji’s mouth, but the words said in Shuuhei’s soft, gentle voice made him feel funny in the pit of his stomach. “Maybe you’re right,” he admitted at last, and Shuuhei chuckled quietly.

“Did you just admit you were wrong about something?”

“Shut up. It doesn’t happen often.”

Shuuhei shifted on the couch, letting out a little moan of pain.

“You okay, kid?”

“It’s weird not having Renji here to comfort me.”

“Oh, gross. Don’t tell me that shit.”

“Not like _that_. Get your mind out of the gutter, Kensei. It wasn’t all about sex. Sometimes he’d just hold me and stuff.”

“Forgive me if I don’t,” Kensei shot back, pushing away the strange fizzing feeling that tingled through his body at the thought.

“It’s just gonna be weird to not call him every time I…you know.”

“Have you ever actually tried to kill yourself?” Kensei asked, wondering as he was asking if he really wanted to know the answer.

Shuuhei was quiet for a very long time. “Yeah. Twice.” His voice was strained. “I tried to OD on my foster dad’s opiates one time when I was fourteen—that’s another reason I stay away from painkillers. And another time I tried to jump off a roof. Renji kicked my ass for that one.” He pulled the cloth from his brow and sat up gingerly. “It’s one thing to see all these things now, when I’ve been a cop for a little while and I’m starting to get desensitized to the violence. But when you’re a kid, to suddenly have a vision of people getting shot, stabbed, whatever…it’s a lot different from just watching a movie or something. I feel what happens to them, and when I was younger I couldn’t take it.”

“You never get completely used to it,” Kensei told him, leaning his head back against the couch. “Even after seeing so many people die during my time in the Marines—blown up, shot, dismembered—you don’t get used to it.”  

“Great,” Shuuhei sighed. He got to his feet. “I think I can get home now. Thank you for…well, you know.”

“Listen to me,” Kensei said, also standing. “Because I’m only gonna say this once.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, a little embarrassed. “You’re a good cop, and you’ve helped me out a lot with this case. So any time you feel like putting a bullet in your head, you give me a call. It’s not shameful to ask for help if you need it, and while I can’t help you out like your friend used to, I can at least kick your ass for trying to kill yourself.” He smiled crookedly. “Got it, kid?”

Shuuhei’s eyes sparkled a little, and Kensei almost thought he was about to cry again, but he pulled himself together. “Yeah. Got it. Thanks, Kensei. I should…get going.”

“You need me to drive you?”

“No, I’m—” Shuuhei stumbled as he stepped forward, and Kensei caught him for the second time that night.

“Come on, kid,” Kensei sighed. “I’ll drive you.” He helped Shuuhei outside and into the car. “Tomorrow we’ll go talk to Kariya. The fact that Bount & Company’s old logo is carved on all these dead kids is reason enough to go speak to them. Maybe he’ll let something slip that we can use.”

* * *

 Bount & Company’s building looked like it had been a mansion in its past life. It had old timey gothic architecture that made Shuuhei weirdly nervous. He kept expecting a gargoyle to jump out at him—on his right side, where he wouldn’t see it coming until too late.

“Why the fuck are you so jumpy?” Kensei hissed as they approached the building.

“Oh, I dunno, maybe because we’re meeting with a murderer who might get away with it?” Shuuhei whispered back through gritted teeth.

“Well lock it down,” Kensei ordered. “We’re not gonna get shit from him if you’re acting like a spooked deer.”

Shuuhei opened his mouth to retort but the door to Bount & Company’s offices opened, revealing a young man with short, buzzed hair.

“Can I help you?”

“We’re here to see Kariya Jin,” Kensei said.

“Do you have an appointment?” the young man asked. “He’s very busy.”

Kensei flashed his badge, making the boy’s eyes widen. “Do you think he can make time for a detective?”

“Y-yes, of course. Come in.” The boy stepped back to let them in. “This way, please.” He led them to a spacious office where a tall, white-haired man sat. He looked up as they entered.

“Yes?”

“Kariya Jin? My name is Detective Muguruma Kensei. This is Hisagi Shuuhei. May we ask you a few questions?”

Kariya looked puzzled. “What about? Am I in trouble?”

“No, of course not,” Shuuhei said soothingly. “We just wanted a little clarification about some things that you may be able to help us with.”

“All right, I’ll help if I can,” Kariya said uncertainly. “That’ll be all, Cain,” he told the boy, who nodded and left, closing the door of the office to give them privacy. “So,” the white-haired man said, steepling his fingers together. “Please, sit down. What can I help you with?”

“We’re investigating the five children who have been found dead around the city within the past few months,” Kensei told him as they seated themselves in front of his desk.

“Oh, yes, I remember seeing that on the news. Do you need…legal advice about it?”

“No, not that,” Shuuhei said gently. “We can’t reveal the specifics of our investigation, but we wanted to ask you if you recognized this mark.” He reached into his jacket and withdrew a drawing of the mark they’d found on the kids, sliding it over the dark wood of the desktop so Kariya could see it. He studied it briefly, then handed it back.

“Yes, of course. That was Bount & Company’s logo when the company first started up. Why?”

“It’s been cut into all the victims’ skin,” Shuuhei answered. Normally he wouldn’t have divulged such an integral part of their case, but he had a feeling that he wouldn’t get anywhere if he hid it from Kariya.

The lawyer looked alarmed at the news. “What? Really? That’s…” He swallowed, looking slightly ill. “Horrible.”

“Can you think of any reason why the original logo of your company would be on the dead children?” Shuuhei pressed.

“No, of course not…I mean, I wouldn’t really know anyways, though. I was the one who changed that logo—I thought it looked outdated. It was first used by Bount & Company’s founder, but he’s long since gone.”

“Who was the founder?”

“A man named Eugene Currier, I believe. I heard that he left the country not long before I joined the company, but no one really knows why.”

“Do you have a way to contact him?”

Kariya shook his head. “He left very suddenly, with almost no warning, from what I’ve heard. He left his friend Sawatari in charge of the company, and Sawatari hired me.”

“Does Sawatari still work here?”

Kariya bit his lip. “He died last year…he was very old.”

Shuuhei sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I see. Forgive me for asking this, but we must make sure. Can you tell me where you were on the morning of January 29th and the night of February 1st?”

“That morning I was here, at work. Cain and all the others can vouch for me. And that night I was at home. My butler can attest to that, I’m sure.”

Shuuhei got to his feet. “We would like to get alibis from the rest of your staff, just in case, if they don’t mind cooperating. It’s best to rule out any potential suspects. I’m sure you understand.”

Kariya rose as well, shaking their hands. “Of course. I’ll let them know, and try to get the alibis to you as soon as possible.”

“Thank you for your help.”

As soon as they were outside the building, Shuuhei’s fists clenched and his face went stony.

“What’s wrong with you?” Kensei asked as they walked to the car.

“I’m just angry. He was so…normal. After brutally killing his girlfriend? Who’s normal after that?”

“He certainly fits the profile of a serial killer,” Kensei agreed. “We’ll have to check out his alibis.”

“He’s a damn good actor,” Shuuhei growled as Kensei put the car in gear. “I wouldn’t put killing children past him. And he’s prone to fits of passion and rage, clearly, if he stabbed his girlfriend thirteen times because he found out she was telling someone his secrets.”

“Still no motive for the kids,” Kensei pointed out.

Shuuhei mulled that over. “Serial killers don’t really _have_ motives,” he said at last. “Not usually. But even so, I doubt Kariya would kill people giving him money. It just doesn’t make sense, unless they somehow were blackmailing him.”

“Twelve- to fifteen-year-old kids? Doubtful.”

Shuuhei sank back in his seat, sighing. “Yeah.” He chewed on a thumbnail. “The farther we get the less we know.”

“At least we have an ace in the hole,” Kensei said with a grin.

“Sarugaki Hiyori? I hope so.”

“I also want to look into that Eugene Currier guy. Seems like he has more of a connection with the Bount crest than Kariya does.”

“Check through their files when we get back to the office as well as our databases. Maybe Kariya wasn’t telling us everything.”

They fell silent for the rest of the drive back to the station, and when they returned to their shared office, Shuuhei started researching while Kensei added their interview with Kariya to the rest of the notes on the investigation.

“I’ve been thinking,” Kensei said after a long stretch of quiet.

“You can think?”

“Shut up. I was thinking…maybe I’ll go see Mashiro on my next day off.”

Shuuhei sobered, looking up at his partner. He looked mildly pleased. “You’re taking my advice?”

“Don’t get an inflated ego, kid,” Kensei snapped. “I just…have been thinking about it a lot. And I guess you and Shinji are right.”

“Are you gonna go with him?”

“I guess so. I really don’t wanna face her alone after staying away for so long. I…don’t know what to expect.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Shuuhei told him, biting back a smile at his normally confident partner’s nervousness. 

* * *

 

Surprisingly, every employee of Bount & Company was able to come up with an alibi for the time Hanakari Jinta had disappeared and was killed, which almost made Kensei even more suspicious. He thought about it the entire way to the mental hospital where Mashiro was, and Shinji, who was driving, was wise enough not to pester him during the long drive.

They could have admitted Mashiro to one of the facilities nearer to their town, of course, but Kensei had insisted on the best care for his former partner, mostly out of guilt for not saving her in time.

“Quit thinkin’ about work,” Shinji said finally, breaking the silence. “Ya got Shuuhei doin’ all yer grunt work today, so quit worryin’ and concentrate on the fact that we’re gonna go see Mashiro.”

“I can’t,” Kensei admitted through clenched teeth. “I’m too fuckin’ nervous about seeing her.”

Shinji looked over at him, surprised. “It ain’t like you to tell people yer nervous, Kensei. I think that boy’s been a good influence on ya.” His grin stretched wide.

“Shut up and leave him outta this,” Kensei griped, embarrassed.

“How’s it goin’ with you two anyways?”

“I said shut up! Do you _still_ think I’m into him?”

Shinji laughed. “Why’re ya gettin’ so riled up about it?”

“Because you’re being an idiot!”

Shinji took his eyes off the road briefly to study Kensei, looking smug. “Believe me, I’m not the idiot here, Kensei, but since ya get so butthurt every time I bring it up, I’ll let it go fer now.” He pulled into the parking lot of the hospital, and Kensei forgot what he was so angry about, the nervousness returning in a wave of nausea.

Shinji stepped out, looking back at Kensei. “Ya ready? C’mon.”

Kensei let out a deep breath and followed the slender man into the hospital, digging his hands deep into his pockets.

“We’re here to see Kuna Mashiro,” Shinji told the girl at the front desk. She pushed a clipboard over to him.

“Sign in here, please, and take a seat. Someone will be with you shortly.”

Shinji scribbled his own name and handed the clipboard to Kensei, who followed suit and then sat next to his friend in one of the padded waiting room chairs. The mental hospital gave him a gross feeling, almost like an itch, and made him want to jump in a shower and scrub his skin until it bled. It wasn’t the facility itself, per se—from what he could see, he had been right to choose this place for Mashiro. It was clean, quiet, and everyone seemed professional. But there was a strange aura that hung in the air that he didn’t like, and maybe it was because he was around Shuuhei so much, but he thought it might’ve been the souls of the people inside, crying out for help.

“Hirako-san.” A woman with long black hair braided down her front had approached them, wearing the white coat of a doctor.

Shinji looked up. “Hey, doc. How’s she doin’ today?”

“About the same,” the woman replied, her voice soft and soothing. She turned her attention to Kensei. “Are you here to see Kuna-san as well?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“I’m Unohana Retsu. I’m Kuna Mashiro’s doctor.”

Kensei shook her offered hand. “Muguruma Kensei.”

“Please, come this way.” Unohana led them down a pristine white hallway, stopping in front of a white door. “Perhaps I should warn you about Kuna-san first. She is doing much better than before, but is still sometimes prone to violent outbursts and may need to be restrained. Please, speak gently and try not to upset her, and unless she initiates contact, do not try to touch her.”

“Got it,” Kensei said, shifting uncomfortably.

“We will give you privacy, but we must stay close by in case she has a meltdown,” Unohana added, opening the door and standing aside.

“You want to go in alone?” Shinji asked.

Kensei shook his head. “She’s more used to you by now. Come with me.” Shinji nodded, and they both stepped inside the room.

The room was sparsely furnished and rather small, but looked relatively clean and comfortable. A twin-sized bed occupied most of the space, with a small nightstand, a couple chairs, and door Kensei guessed led to a bathroom. Sitting on the bed with her knees drawn up to her chest was a young woman with bright green hair and a sweet-looking, heart-shaped face.

“Oi, Mashiro-chan, look who I brought,” Shinji said gently, moving slowly over to her and sitting in one of the chairs. Kensei took the other one, drawing it up to the bed.

“Mashiro,” he said, trying to keep his voice free of its usual harsh bite.

Mashiro turned to look at him, and Kensei swallowed at the blankness of her face. Her lips parted a little, almost like she was trying to speak, but no sound came out. She was thinner than he remembered, and it was strange to see her clothed in baggy, shapeless hospital garb. When they had been partners, she had always favored skin-tight clothing, often to the obvious pleasure of most of the men they interrogated.

“They say she never talks,” Shinji supplied. “Hysterical muteness, or something. I usually just come and talk to her, tell her what I’ve been up to, ya know. She seems to understand. I even got her to laugh once.” He sounded proud.

Although he was itching to reach out to her, Kensei refrained, remembering Unohana’s warning. Instead, he leaned his forearms on his knees, raking a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come see you,” he said quietly, not looking at her. “I…didn’t think you would have forgiven me.”

Mashiro cocked her head a little, looking like an innocent child. Kensei took a breath, looking over at Shinji.

“She seems okay with me here. You wanna give us a minute?”

“Sure. I’ll be back in a bit, Mashiro-chan.” Shinji got to his feet and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Kensei turned back to his former partner. “He’s always tellin’ me it wasn’t my fault, what happened to you,” he told her, leaning back in his chair. It was almost like talking to a brick wall for all the reaction he got, and he felt slightly silly, but she just kept looking at him, her face blank, only a bit of unrecognizable emotion in her once-lively eyes. “Maybe it wasn’t my fault,” Kensei continued. “But I still couldn’t forgive myself. And I thought I was just doin’ what was best for everyone, by staying away.”

He gave her a crooked little smile. “There’s this kid I work with now. Shuuhei. Ain’t nothing like you, but I like him okay. He smacked some sense into me, saying I was selfish for staying away so long, that maybe you needed or wanted me to come see you.”

Mashiro’s expression still didn’t change.

“I can’t tell what you’re thinking,” Kensei admitted. “But I…I hope it’s better for you, having me here.” Honestly, Kensei felt like his teeth were rotting from all the sweet stuff he kept saying—he never talked like this, but he was making an effort to speak gently, as Unohana had ordered. He owed it to Mashiro not to upset her. So he told her about Shuuhei, leaving out anything concerning their investigation that might cause her to have a flashback of her own brutal torture. He told her about how Tachikaze was doing, and the friend he’d found in Kazeshini. He refused to speak of how Shuuhei made him feel sometimes. If he spoke about that stuff, it would make it real, and he wasn’t ready for that.

“I miss you,” he said finally, looking into Mashiro’s eyes. “I know we didn’t get along all the time—hell, half the time I was yellin’ at you. But I never loved you any less. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you more often.”

He got to his feet, looking at the clock and seeing with surprise that over an hour had passed. “I gotta to get going, but I’ll visit you again. If you’re okay with it, at least.”

Mashiro finally moved, slowly inching to the side of the bed and standing up. Her face was still blank, her eyes still clouded, but she reached out to Kensei, touching his wrist gently and then hesitantly wrapping her thin arms around his waist.

Unexpected tears pricked at Kensei’s eyes as he felt her touch again after so long, but he blinked them back, chancing to put a gentle hand on her head to brush back her green hair.

“Kensei,” Mashiro said in her childish voice, almost too quiet for him to hear.

Kensei swallowed hard, and when she didn’t say anything else, he wondered if he’d imagined it. He put his arms around her carefully, then smoothed back her bangs so he could press a kiss to her forehead. He wanted to keep hugging her, but after a moment he felt her body tense, and so he stepped back, not wanting to trigger a meltdown.

“Take care, Mashiro,” he told her. “Come back to us someday.” Kensei left the room quietly, nearly knocking into Shinji. “You wanna go visit with her? I’ll wait in the car,” he said, and Shinji didn’t press him, only handed him the keys with a nod.

Kensei made his escape and, once in the car, reclined his seat and lay back, taking a few slow, deep breaths while he stared up at the ceiling. He felt shaky and weak, which was an unpleasant feeling for someone who prided himself in his physical strength.

Shinji returned after what felt like ages, but in reality it had only been about twenty minutes. He kept looking over at Kensei during the drive back, and Kensei turned to stare out his window to avoid his friend’s scrutinizing gaze.

“So?” Shinji finally asked, clearly frustrated with Kensei’s attempts to avoid talking with him.

“She’s…doing well, it looks like.”

“That’s it?”

Kensei made a frustrated noise. “What the fuck do you want me to say, Shinji? She’s like a little sister to me. How do you expect me to react?”

“I just expected you to be…louder about your anger,” Shinji told him with a grin. “Like you used to be.”

“I’m…not angry. I don’t think. I mean, yeah, I still want to tear the asshole who did it to her apart, but there’s nothing I can do. I can’t make her better.”

Shinji’s eyebrows rose into his bangs until they were all but invisible. “Since when are you logical? And mature? I swear, Shuuhei’s changin’ ya fer the better.”

“Stop acting like we’re an old married couple,” Kensei snapped. “I’m sick of it, Shinji, and it’s not funny anymore.”

“Maybe not to you,” Shinji chuckled, but his cheerfulness was short-lived. “She seemed…different, after you left. Happier, maybe.”

“She said my name,” Kensei said after a moment, then yelled, “Hey! Watch it, asshole!” as Shinji jerked around to look at him in shock, making the car swerve dangerously.

“She spoke?” Shinji asked in awe, though he kept his gaze on the road this time. “You shoulda told the doctors, dumbass!”

“I didn’t think of it at the time!” Kensei snapped back. “But yeah, when I got up to leave, she hugged me and said my name. At least, I think she did. I mighta imagined it.”

“Maybe that means she’s gettin’ better,” Shinji said cautiously. “She obviously recognizes us. The doctors think she just kind of walled herself off emotionally to survive the torture and hasn’t allowed herself to believe she’s safe again. Maybe she’s startin’ to, though.”

“Do they think there’s chance for a full recovery?” Kensei asked, dreading the answer. 

Shinji looked at him briefly, his brown eyes thoughtful and a little sympathetic. “Do you really believe someone who’s been through what Mashiro has could ever be completely normal?” He sighed. “They’ve told me there’s no reason for her not to talk again someday—her vocal chords are fine. But they don’t know if she’ll ever stop reliving being repeatedly raped and tortured. I mean, could you?”

“I’ll letcha know if it happens,” Kensei replied, trying to ignore the deep, sharp ache in the middle of his chest.

Shinji dropped Kensei off at his apartment and the silver-haired man called Shuuhei to see if he’d found anything useful regarding the investigation.

“All the alibis are checking out,” Shuuhei’s voice said, crackling a little over the phone. “On a hunch, though, I took a step back from the situation and started looking at child disappearances throughout the city.”

“There’ve always been a lotta those,” Kensei commented as he unlocked his door, holding the phone between ear and shoulder.

“The kids that have been found were badly traumatized and exhibited signs of rape,” Shuuhei said. “Most of them are never found, though. And hardly any have turned up dead, let alone killed in the same manner as the five in our investigation.”

“So what’s your point?”

“Quite a few of the kids who’ve disappeared were also buying from Kariya Jin’s drug dealers.”

“But only the ones Mabashi was selling to are dying?”

“Yeah,” Shuuhei answered with a sigh. “But I don’t know what it means.”

“Maybe location?” Kensei suggested, sitting on his couch and propping his legs up on the coffee table as Tachikaze padded over to get his head scratched. “Mabashi only sold to a section of the city…which means our killer probably lives on his turf.”

“I think we should talk to one of the kids who’s been found,” Shuuhei said hesitantly. “There’s a chance it could all be connected.”

Kensei sat up straight. “Are you saying…you think this is sex trafficking, don’t you?”

“I think so,” came Shuuhei’s voice. “The kids who were discovered still alive were found with a mark cut into them. I haven’t been able to locate the specific case reports that have the photos yet, but I’m willing to bet that it’s the same mark that’s on the dead kids. I mean, it makes sense, right? One way or another, they get hooked on drugs. Then, maybe when they don’t have enough money to keep feeding their habit, they’re either offered a choice or taken by force, branded, and sold into sex slavery. It’s just a hypothesis, but it all fits. The only part I can’t figure out is the killing.”

“You _have_ been busy,” Kensei said, allowing pride to leak through to his words. “I’m actually impressed, kid. Good job.” He could almost hear Shuuhei blush with pleasure.

“I just…wanted you to come back to some good news, is all. How’d your visit go, by the way?”

Kensei winced. He’d known Shuuhei would ask eventually. “It was…fine,” he said.

“Wow. That was taciturn even for you.”

“Don’t be a smartass. It was weird, okay? Seeing her after all this time, and she’s hardly even a shadow of who she was. The Mashiro I knew was always moving, always walking, talking, annoying.” Kensei gave a little laugh. “Now she don’t even talk at all.”

“I’m sorry,” Shuuhei said, his voice sympathetic through the phone. “I thought it would help, really.”

“I think it did,” Kensei admitted. “I just…I don’t wanna talk about it right now, okay? See if you can get us a talk with one of those kids who’s been found and I’ll see ya tomorrow, hey?” He hung up the phone and leaned back into the couch, patting the space beside him. Tachikaze hopped up onto the couch next to him and curled up, laying his head in Kensei’s lap and looking up at him with loving, trusting eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I realize I'm terrible about TW and I'm sorry; there's some dubcon sexual content in this chapter, so be forewarned!

 

It took longer than anticipated for Shuuhei to arrange a talk with one of the kids who had been found. Part of it was that it was difficult finding one who was willing to talk to them. The other part took shape in the form of a tragedy.

About three days after Kensei had gone to visit Mashiro, they were working in their office, bouncing ideas off of each other while Shuuhei tried to get in contact with Lilynette Gingerback, one of the children who had been found after declared missing for several months. Kensei had just thrown a paperclip at him after he’d made fun of something the older man had said, when Captain Hirako opened their office door. No knock, and no smile. In fact, his face was as white as a sheet, his eyes large in hollowed cheeks and every trace of his normal carefree attitude had vanished.

Kensei’s smile died as soon as he caught sight of his friend. “Shinji? What’s wrong?”

The blond captain opened his mouth, then closed it, clutching at their doorknob in white-knuckled hands. Kensei stood quickly, as did Shuuhei, both of them evidently wondering if their boss was about to faint.

Captain Hirako licked his lips, then tried to speak again. “Kensei,” he began.

“What? What the fuck is wrong?” Kensei’s voice sounded almost panicked.

“Mashiro’s dead.” The words left Captain Hirako in a rush, his voice dead-sounding.

Kensei froze, his hands tightening on the edge of his desk.

Shuuhei stayed quiet, knowing it wasn’t his place to say anything, even though he was just as shocked and curious.

“How?” Kensei croaked, blood draining from his face as well until he was bone white.

“Sh-She got her hands on some pills, apparently,” Shinji stammered, still looking like he’d seen a ghost. “Looked like she’d been stealin’ and hidin’ ’em for a while. Last night she finally took them. She was already gone when the nurses made their rounds.”

Even from behind his desk, Shuuhei could see Kensei’s shoulders trembling, the grooves of muscle in his arms taut and bulging as he dug his fingers into the edge of his own desk.

Captain Hirako moved towards him. “Kensei, don’t—“

“I have to go,” Kensei interrupted, his voice a little breathy. Robotically, he gathered his things and moved towards the door as though in a dream.

“Just a minute,” Captain Hirako murmured, moving forward and unsnapping Kensei’s service weapon, pulling it free from its holster. “Let me hold onto this, okay?” he told his friend, looking into Kensei’s amber eyes. Kensei just nodded jerkily and moved around him, disappearing out the door.

Shuuhei was on his feet by now, feeling like an outsider. “I’m…sorry for your loss,” he told his captain. “I know you were close to Kuna-san as well.”

“Our whole group was,” Captain Hirako said, looking down so his bangs hid his eyes. “But Kensei most of all.”

“Oh,” Shuuhei said, finally understanding. “You mean, they were—”

“No, no,” Captain Hirako corrected hurriedly. “Not like that. If anything, Kensei looks—looked—upon Mashiro as a younger sister.”

“Will he be okay?” Shuuhei asked. He’d never seen Kensei look quite so destroyed as he had when he left.

“I…honestly don’t know,” Captain Hirako said quietly as he left the office. 

* * *

 

Maybe it was selfish, but Shuuhei couldn’t bring himself to continue with the investigation while Kensei was out of commission. Every time he tried to work Shuuhei found himself distracted by worry for his partner, whom he hadn’t heard from since he’d left.

Kensei was refusing to pick up his phone, so Shuuhei waited two days and then went to his apartment, pounding on the door loudly until the older man yanked it open with a snarl.

Shuuhei stepped back a little, shocked at how Kensei looked. He had a five o’clock shadow shading his lower face, and his eyes were sunken and red-rimmed. The strong scent of whiskey tickled Shuuhei's nostrils as he stepped past the older man and into the apartment.

“You aren’t picking up your phone,” Shuuhei said, turning to his partner, his hands in his pockets. “I was worried.”

Kensei didn’t answer, but the look in his maddened eyes made Shuuhei a little nervous. It was something predatory and primal, darkening his irises to a burnished gold color.

“Kensei,” he began, moving closer and laying a hand on his partner’s tense arm. The older man flinched at the touch, his expression still odd.

He moved too fast for Shuuhei to register at first, though that was partially because Kensei was on his blind side. Before he could even gasp, Shuuhei found himself slammed against the wall next to the apartment door so hard he groaned, Kensei’s strong hands locking over his arms, immobilizing them.

“What the fuck are you—” Shuuhei’s words were swallowed as Kensei’s lips roughly crashed against his, effectively silencing him.

“Mmf,” was all Shuuhei could utter as his mind buzzed blank. When his thoughts finally caught up with him he started to struggle, eyes wide as he realized what was happening. Almost without his consent, his lips responded to Kensei’s feverish kiss and a little moan rose in his throat. He couldn’t quite believe that Kensei, who was always teasing him about being gay, was kissing him, and wondered briefly if it was all an elaborate dream, but the feel of his rough, chapped lips against his own was far too real, especially when they coaxed his mouth open so Kensei’s tongue could stroke against his.

Kensei’s hands finally moved from their fixed position on Shuuhei’s arms to slip under his shirt, rubbing against his chest and stomach in strong, rough motions. His calloused fingertips grazed the mass of scar tissue on Shuuhei’s abdomen, making the younger man shudder. Kensei was pressing closer, finally breaking the kiss and nipping a trail to his partner’s jaw and then down to his neck, sucking hard and making Shuuhei’s head fall back against the wall with a _crack_.

Shuuhei’s mind cleared a little now that his lips were free, even though Kensei’s hands against his chest and back were very distracting. His logical brain was telling him that this was _bad_ , that this was just Kensei reacting to Mashiro’s death. “Kensei, I don’t think—hnnng—” Kensei bit down on a particularly sensitive spot on Shuuhei’s neck and he shut his mouth, deciding he didn’t care. His entire body was on fire where the older man was touching him—he had wanted it for so long, even if he hadn’t fully realized it. There was an undercurrent of desperation as Kensei licked and sucked at his neck, his hands far from gentle as he tugged Shuuhei’s shirt up and off, but the rough treatment just turned Shuuhei on more and he managed to wrestle Kensei’s shirt free as well.

Staring up at him was the dark 69 tattoo that was stamped directly under Kensei’s pectorals, and Shuuhei shuddered at the number’s ulterior meaning, reaching for the older man’s shoulders. He was slightly taller than Kensei—maybe an inch or so—but the silver-haired man was broader and stockier, his muscles rippling over his arms and abdomen, and Shuuhei managed to run his hands over the sharp planes of his chest before Kensei snatched his wrists again, turning him bodily around and shoving him against the wall again, this time face-first. Shuuhei could barely catch his breath as he felt one of the older man’s hands fumbling with his belt and the button for his jeans, finally getting it free and dragging his zipper down so his pants pooled around his ankles. Shuuhei let Kensei tug his boxers down as well, jumping a little as Kensei’s mouth returned, nibbling none too gently at the base of the back of his neck while he thrust his hips against Shuuhei’s naked ass. Even through the heavy cargo pants Kensei still wore, Shuuhei could feel how hard he was, hot and heavy against him.

A little moan escaped Shuuhei and he felt his own erection swelling so its slick tip rubbed against the wall he was bracing himself on, and unconsciously, he ground his hips back into Kensei’s. His partner’s chest pressed against his back as Kensei bit down hard on Shuuhei’s neck again, worrying the muscle between his teeth as a dog might while he gripped Shuuhei’s hips with his big hands, feeling the sharpness of the hipbones there before dragging one hand up his chest and—Shuuhei guessed—undoing his own pants with the other.

Their bodies were dewed with sweat by now, slipping together lewdly with wet _slish_ ing sounds. Their movements were desperate, hurried, and rough, all fingernails and teeth and bruising grips. Shuuhei sucked in a breath as he felt spit-slicked fingers probe at his entrance. One slipped in, pumping experimentally a few times before another was added, almost before he was ready. Shuuhei gritted his teeth at the burn they caused, but stayed quiet. It had been a while since he had bottomed, but what made him the most nervous was how turned on he was still even after Kensei’s rough, rushed treatment. Rough sex was normally a turn-on for him anyway, but the one thing Shuuhei never rushed was preparation. He surmised that he was probably just too horny and hard up to care—it had been a while and he’d wanted Kensei so badly for so long…

The stubble that shadowed Kensei’s face scraped against Shuuhei’s neck and jaw as his fingers moved inside him, stretching him hurriedly while Kensei panted harshly in his ear, pressing him harder against the wall. Shuuhei groaned as the fingers disappeared and managed to suck in a quick breath as he heard a ripping and crinkling sound and then the faint snapping sound of latex being rolled down. Before the young man could prepare himself mentally, Kensei was sinking into his hastily prepared entrance with a dull flare of pain, his sweaty forehead slipping against Shuuhei’s shoulder as he gave a low gasp of pleasure.

Shuuhei ground his teeth together until his jaw hurt, forcing his body to relax and accept the intrusion. Kensei gave him a brief moment to adjust, and then he was pulling back and thrusting forward with powerful motions. Shuuhei couldn’t stop the little moan that escaped his throat even as he clenched his fist against the wall in pain. The lubrication on the condom helped, but it still stung a little, and Kensei clearly wasn’t concerned with making it easy for his partner. That much was evident from the heaviness of his thrusts and the way his hands gripped Shuuhei’s hips unrelentingly. Nevertheless, Shuuhei found himself panting, gasping out his pleasure with every rough thrust as he slapped a hand against the wall to steady himself, leaving sweaty handprints on the painted surface. Pressure built in his lower belly, tightening as Kensei’s grunts and groans filtered out into the air by his ear and his harsh thrusts picked up pace.

His body was being shoved into the wall with every one of Kensei’s powerful strokes inside him, and Shuuhei gasped as a particularly sharp thrust hit his prostate hard, making his knees buckle as his nerves tingled with pleasure. Kensei’s iron grip on him stopped him from falling, and Shuuhei let his head thump against the wall, reaching down with the hand that wasn’t bracing himself to wrap around his rock hard erection, wishing briefly that it was Kensei’s hand instead. But from the merciless grip his partner had on his hips, Shuuhei knew he wasn’t interested in reciprocating. The thought made him feel slightly ill, so he pushed it out of his mind in lieu of the numbing pleasure that was building in his groin as he stroked his hand over himself in time with Kensei’s quick thrusts.

A sharp tug, a clenching of muscles, and a throaty moan spilling from Shuuhei’s lips and he was coming, his whole body buckling into itself as he clenched around Kensei’s cock and spurted onto the smooth painted surface of the wall. Kensei gave a few more hard, punishing thrusts and growled like a caged animal as he buried himself deep one more time and sank his teeth into Shuuhei’s heavily muscled shoulder, his body shuddering against Shuuhei’s sweaty back.

They were still for a few minutes, panting in unison while still connected, and Shuuhei swore he could feel Kensei’s heart throbbing through his skin. Then the glow faded and pain swelled again, both in his hastily prepared ass and the bites and scratches now littering his body. He winced as Kensei pulled out, feeling a little wetness of what might be blood trickle down the back of his leg.

Stiffly, Shuuhei leaned down to pull his pants and boxers up again, fastening his belt and then looking around for his shirt. He found it a couple feet away and moved away from Kensei to pick it up and tug it on. They still didn’t speak.

Finally, Shuuhei turned to look at Kensei, who was now clothed in his cargo pants, and was somewhat startled to see what seemed to be conflicting emotions in his partner’s amber eyes. He looked…almost regretful, but still like a spooked animal, all hard lines and tense muscles. Hesitantly, Shuuhei stepped towards him.

“Kensei,” he started, breaking the silence.

Kensei still didn’t speak, avoiding Shuuhei’s gaze as the younger man approached. Then, finally, as Shuuhei was about to lay a hand on his arm, he said quietly but clearly, “Don’t.”

Shuuhei ignored him, settling a hand over the tense bicep of Kensei’s right arm. “You need to talk about this,” he said, meaning Mashiro’s death, not the fact that Kensei had just plowed him through the wall. “You’re blaming yourself for her death, don’t try to deny it.”

Kensei’s head came up, his eyes blazing. “Get out.”

“Kensei—”

“Get the fuck out, you fag!” the silver-haired man spat, his lip curling over his white teeth in a rabid snarl.

Shuuhei stiffened, pulling back his hand as his face immediately hardened. “Well, you know what homophobia _really_ says about you,” he said, voice harsh and stony, then turned and stalked out of the apartment, leaving behind the sweaty handprints and the streaks of cum on the smooth, white surface of the wall. 

* * *

 

Kensei wasn’t sure how long he’d been holed up in his apartment, but it had to have been at least a few days. He’d gone through the entire shelf of liquor that normally sat mostly untouched in one of his kitchen cabinets, and his head was pounding as he irritatingly started to sober up.

Fucking Shuuhei hadn’t helped him through his anger or grief at all, like he had suspected and hoped it would. When Rose had died, taking the rage out on another person had made him feel a tiny bit better—it had briefly stopped the sharp ache of loss to feel another body, alive and against his, to see his fingernails marking skin and slipping on another person’s sweat.

But with Shuuhei, it had made him feel even worse. How good it had felt to get his hands on Shuuhei and the brief rush of ecstasy when his orgasm had peaked had been amazing right when they had happened, but the thrill had gone. He kept seeing the young man’s hurt expression that had hardened to anger within a nanosecond, and the memory made his chest tighten painfully.

A light knock sounded against Kensei’s door, and he gritted his teeth at the little flare of pain it caused his head. He ignored it, but it came again, harder this time, and when he still refused to open the door, there was the scraping sound of a key in the lock. Kensei cursed quietly to himself, knowing it had to be Shinji. No one else had a copy of his key.

Sure enough, the blond captain stepped inside Kensei’s apartment, wrinkling his nose at the ripe smell.

“For fuck’s sake, Kensei. Have you showered at all after drinking everything in your house?”

“Shinji, I am _not_ in the mood,” Kensei growled from his position on the couch, curled up with Tachikaze, who looked as worried as a dog could.

“Of course yer not,” Shinji snapped, his smile disappearing. “None of us are in the mood, Kensei, considering we just lost a dear friend, but we’re not falling apart and locking ourselves in our apartments. We’re going to work and we’re dealing, in the best way we know how, and you’re sitting here feeling sorry for yourself. _Snap out of it_.”

Kensei gave a wordless snarl, launching himself at Shinji in an uncharacteristically sloppy attack. Shinji whipped to the side and brought his foot up into Kensei’s sternum, knocking the breath out of him. The bigger man dropped to his knee, wheezing, and Shinji crouched down next to him.

“That was stupid,” his captain said in a low voice. “But you’ve been stupid for a long time, Kensei.” His voice gentled. “I know you’re hurting. We all are. But you haven’t been to work in six days, and I can’t cover for you any longer. Shuuhei’s been working around the clock to make up for your absence, and I think there’s somethin’ going on with him too. My squad’s fallin’ apart and I can’t—” Shinji broke off, but Kensei had heard the little quiver in his voice.

“Six days?” he asked when he had caught his breath.

“Yeah,” Shinji sighed. He raked a hand through his hair. “Shuuhei’s been keepin’ his head down. I don’t think I’ve heard him say two words since you disappeared. I had to promote him to detective so he could continue with the case, and he still ain’t cracked a smile. I dunno what’s going on with—”

“I fucked him,” Kensei interrupted, propping an arm on his knee and staring off into space.

Shinji was actually speechless for about five seconds, which was a record for him. “What?” he croaked at last.

“I fucked Shuuhei. And then I threw him out, so that’s probably why he’s actin’ so whiny.” Even to his own ears, Kensei’s voice was monotone and robotic.

“What the—fuck, Kensei, did you _rape_ him? He looks fucking miserable!” Shinji looked outraged, his brows drawn together and his hands tightening into fists.

“I…no,” Kensei said after a minute. “Not exactly.” He couldn’t even look at Shinji now—the shame was crushing.

“‘Not exactly’? What the _fuck_ is that supposed to mean?” Shinji’s voice had lowered to a deadly note.

“He never said no,” Kensei muttered, still not meeting his eyes. “You know how strong Shuuhei is—he coulda pushed me off if he hadn’t wanted it.”

“That’s a coward’s excuse, Kensei,” Shinji bit out. “You’d better hope he wanted it, because otherwise the chief of police and the public would tear you apart.” He paused, then spoke again, his voice chilly. “And I’d let them.”

“I know,” Kensei replied, still without emotion.

“When will you stop punishing yourself for things you have no control over?” Shinji said softly after a minute of silence, and Kensei knew he wasn’t talking about Shuuhei anymore.

“If I hadn’t gone and seen her—she’d still be alive,” he answered, scrubbing at dry eyes with one hand.

“That’s bullshit.”

“She killed herself only after I visited,” Kensei argued, baring his teeth. “I must’ve done something to upset—”

“You know what I think?” Shinji interrupted, still not looking at him. He continued without prompting. “Mashiro was gonna kill herself no matter what. She couldn’t pull herself outta the hell she went through so she thought she’d end it, but some part of her held on so she could say goodbye to you. She loved you the most and she wanted to see you before she went. I hate that it happened as much as you do, Kensei, but if it was gonna happen anyway I’m glad she got a bit of closure.”

“That don’t make it much better,” Kensei growled, wiping away a tear before it fell.

“But it wasn’t your fault, and that’s the reason you holed yourself up here, because you were blamin’ yerself. So get up, shower, come to work, maybe see a damn therapist, but deal with your grief like the strong person you are, Kensei, ’cause I ain’t havin’ this bullshit anymore.”

The prospect of going back to work made a different kind of weight settle in Kensei’s chest.

“Oh, fuck me,” he groaned, raking his hands through his hair. “I can’t.”

“What?”

“I can’t face Shuuhei,” Kensei elaborated through gritted teeth.

Shinji raised an eyebrow. “Oh, no? You got somethin’ to say to me?” He looked smug.

Kensei glared daggers at him. “You were right, okay?” he bit out. “I’m into him, congratulations, you were fucking right. And now I probably fucked up any chance of a relationship with him.” Saying the words out loud felt strange on his tongue and invoked a slightly panicked sensation in the pit of his stomach.

Shinji still looked smug. “You know how long I been waitin’ fer ya to realize yer gay as hell?”

“I’m not gay,” Kensei snapped. “I still like girls too.”

“Alright, alright,” Shinji grinned. “Bisexual. Whatever. Everyone but you could see you were into Rose. It’s the same with Shuuhei.” His voice had gone gentle. “Stop lookin’ so freaked out, Kensei. It don’t make you any less of a man to be into other guys.”

Looking unconvinced, Kensei pushed himself to his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring out of one of his apartment windows.

“You may not wanna come back, Kensei, but this is a whole lot bigger than you and your comfort zone. We have a killer to catch, and if you wanna sacrifice a bunch more kids just because you can’t face your feelings about your partner, then let me know so I can fire ya and find someone else who cares about the people in this city. You don’t have to get along with Shuuhei or even tell him that ya wanna fuck him until he can’t breathe, but ya do have to work with him, got it?”

Kensei was quiet for a very long time. It had been a while since he’d thought about the case, and vaguely he remembered that Shuuhei was supposed to set up an interview with one of the kids who had been taken and then found again. He wondered if he’d done it already. He thought of all the grieving parents and guardians whose children had disappeared—few of them got closure, and the ones who did usually wished they hadn’t.

“I’ll be in tomorrow,” he said at last, and Shinji nodded. He moved in for what looked like a hug and Kensei shrank back, so Shinji just sighed and squeezed his shoulder instead.

“I’ll letcha be,” the blond captain said, letting his hand fall back to his side. “Just quit beatin’ yerself up. It’s okay to like men and it’s okay to cry, Kensei.” In a much quieter voice, so Kensei could barely hear it, he added, “Ya fucking idiot.”

Kensei waited until the door had shut behind Shinji before he sat back down on the couch by Tachikaze and leaned his head back with a sigh. “I don’t cry,” he told the dog, and Tachikaze just flipped an ear at him, as if he were saying, _yeah, right_.


	9. Chapter 9

Shuuhei rested his face in his hands, then raked them through his dark hair. The strands felt lank and greasy against his fingers but he didn’t care—hadn’t cared in days. He shifted in his seat, glad that the soreness from his rough sex session with Kensei had dulled considerably. The day after it had happened he had called into work, too miserable and too much in pain to contemplate getting out of bed. The pain had only been half physical—the grief over having Kensei so close and then being thrown away like a dirty sock had pierced much more deeply than Kensei’s lack of interest in using lubrication had.

He was still waiting to hear back from Lilynette Gingerback’s father about speaking with her. The case had been progressing slowly without Kensei’s help, and even the rush promotion that Captain Hirako had given Shuuhei hadn’t made much of a difference—it was just a formality, after all.

He was startled from his thoughts when the office door opened, and Shuuhei looked up, freezing as Kensei stepped into the room. The silver-haired man still looked haggard, for lack of a better word, but his eyes had lost the frightening fire that Shuuhei had glimpsed when he’d gone to visit.

Shuuhei could tell he was ashamed. He’d grown sensitive to Kensei’s body language and facial expressions, and the slight curve of his shoulders that hadn’t been there before and the little W of consternation between his eyes told Shuuhei that his partner at least felt halfway bad about what had happened between them.

Shuuhei wasn’t impressed. He empathized with Kensei’s loss, but he too had grieved for people and things in his life, and he hadn’t made others suffer because he felt shitty.

Kensei cleared his throat a little, briefly meeting Shuuhei’s eyes before looking away again. When he spoke, his voice was raspy.

“You set up that interview yet?” was all he said.

Shuuhei slumped in his seat a little. He hadn’t known what he’d been expecting, but it still stung his pride a little. “Not yet,” he admitted in a quiet voice. “Her father’s thinking it over. Thinks it might be too traumatic for her to talk about it again.”

Kensei sat down at his desk with a little groan, and Shuuhei bit back a question wondering if his hip was bothering him. Kensei looked as though he hadn’t been eating properly—not thin, exactly, but his cheekbones were a little sharper, his muscles a little more defined than they had been before Mashiro’s death. Shuuhei chewed on his lip, cursing his kind disposition that made him wonder if Kensei was all right.

The day passed silently and awkwardly, with only professional questions and answers cutting the quietness. There was no more banter, no more getting to know each other games, and no more laughter.

It was nearing five o’clock in the evening when the phone rang, and Shuuhei snatched it up, desperate for some noise to cut through the awkward tension around him and Kensei.

“Detective Hisagi.”

“Hello, Detective. This is Stark Coyote, Lilynette’s father.”

Shuuhei straightened in his chair. “Yes, hello. Have you reached a decision?”

He almost heard the other man smile wanly on the other end of the line. “I haven’t, Detective, but my daughter has. She’s agreed to meet with you. Is tomorrow at three all right?”

Shuuhei flipped to their schedule and checked the time. “That’s fine. Would it be better to come to your house or for you to come to the station?”

“She’s most comfortable here.”

“All right, we’ll see you then. Thank you for getting back to us.”

Shuuhei hung the phone up with a click and noticed Kensei looking at him. “Lilynette said she’d talk with us. Three o’clock tomorrow.”

Kensei leaned back in his chair. “Okay.”

Shuuhei sighed a little to himself and shrugged his coat on. “I’m heading out. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Kensei said absently, his mind clearly still far away.

Shuuhei hesitated for a fraction of a second, struggling to find something to say, but he gave up and left the office, turning his collar up against the biting wind. A storm was coming, and he was anxious to get home before it hit.

As he was pulling into the parking lot outside his apartment, Shuuhei noticed a flash of red by the door to his home.

“Renji!” he called as he stepped out of the car, looking up as the sky thundered ominously.

“Hey!” the redhead called, wrapping his coat around himself more tightly. “Wanna let me in? I’m freezing my balls off, y’know.”

Shuuhei pulled out his keys. “You know better than to come by without calling first,” he told Renji as he unlocked the door, fielding an excited Kazeshini and letting Renji into the warmth of the apartment. “My schedule’s always unpredictable.”

“Yeah, but I was in the area, and I haven’t heard from you in a while. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

When Shuuhei was quiet, Renji spoke again. “ _Are_ you okay, Shuu?”

Shuuhei opened his mouth, his fake reply resting pretty on his tongue, then shut it again. “No, Renji,” he managed to say through his tightening throat. “I’m really, really not.” He sank onto the couch with his head in his hands, breathing deeply to hold back the tears. In a trembling voice, he told Renji what had happened with Kensei several days ago.

“Fuck, Shuuhei,” Renji murmured when he was done. “I thought I had it bad. You’ve fallen head over heels for this guy.”

“Not helpful, Renji,” Shuuhei replied bitterly.

“Sorry,” Renji said apologetically. “But I know you Shuuhei. You’d have kicked his ass seven ways to Sunday if you hadn’t been completely willing for him to fuck you. And you being this torn up about him being straight—if he even is—well, let’s just say, you’ve got it _bad_.”

“He’s straight,” Shuuhei answered dully. “That sex wasn’t even about sex. It was about release. He was hurting and he wanted to hurt something so he wouldn’t feel alone. And I’m too goddamn in love with him to have shoved him away.” He heaved a long, slow sigh. “It’s fine. I don’t even care anymore. I just want things to stop being weird so we can solve this damn case.” He shut his mouth before saying something he shouldn’t.

“Is that why you’ve been so twitchy?” Renji asked, propping his feet up on the coffee table. “Work? I know you can’t talk about it,” he added before Shuuhei could say anything. “But for my sake I hope you solve it soon too.” He grinned. “I miss my only somewhat-morose Shuuhei. You’re starting to act like Kira.”

“Take that back,” Shuuhei snapped halfheartedly, and Renji laughed.

* * *

 The house where Lilynette Gingerback and her father, Stark Coyote lived was a small, quiet red brick building in a peaceful, suburban neighborhood. It was only a few streets over from where Hanakari Jinta had lived with his foster father.

“Let me talk?” Shuuhei asked as they approached the door. “At least at first. Stark has been mostly dealing with me.”

“Fine,” Kensei said tersely. “I’m probably too scary anyway.” It was more than he’d said to Shuuhei all morning.

“Not scary,” Shuuhei hedged. “Just blunt. And someone like Lilynette needs to be treated carefully.” He rapped hard on the door.

A middle-aged man with sleepy gray eyes opened the door after several moments. He had longish, wavy brown hair and a well-shaped goatee. Shuuhei thought he was rather attractive for an older man, but he didn’t bother dwelling on that thought.

“You must be Detective Hisagi.” The man held out his hand to Shuuhei. “I’m Stark.”

“This is my partner, Detective Muguruma,” Shuuhei replied, shaking Stark’s hand. The two older men shook hands as well.

“This way,” Stark said, stepping back and opening the door wider. “Lilynette is in the kitchen.”

Lilynette Gingerback was a slim, pale young girl of fourteen, made to look even smaller by the tall stool she was perched on at the kitchen island. Her eyes were those of someone much older, and never left the two strange men standing in front of her. Her arms were wrapped loosely around herself, as though supporting her.

“Lilynette?” Shuuhei sat down across from her, on the other side of the island so as not to crowd her. “My name’s Shuuhei.” She nodded at him, but didn’t reach out a hand for him to shake, so he didn’t offer. “We’d like—”

“You want to know who took me,” the girl interrupted. Her voice was quiet.

“Well, yes,” Shuuhei said. “But your case files state that you weren’t able to tell the police when they found you. So we’re just trying to see if you have any information that can point us in the right direction.”

“Everyone is told to keep their mouths shut,” Lilynette told him, her voice a little stronger. “All the other kids. No tattling.”

“Is that why there weren’t any charges placed against anyone?” Shuuhei asked. Evidently this small, delicate girl was made of sterner stuff than she looked.

“Yes.” Her eyes locked with his.

“So why now?”

“I owe it to them,” Lilynette said, still not looking away. Her small face was determined. “Jinta, Wonderweiss, Senna…they deserve justice. If I can help…And the threat of death isn’t as scary as it once was.” Finally, she looked down. “It might be better, actually. Better than this.”

Shuuhei’s heart broke at the look on her face. Her father evidently shared his opinion: a small sob escaped Stark before he choked it down. Shuuhei shot him a comforting look, then pulled a tape recorder out of his pocket and placed it on the island, clicking the on button.

“Tell me everything.” 

* * *

 

Lilynette’s testimony had finally given Kensei and Shuuhei something to talk about that was so important that they both forgot about being awkward around each other.

“Looks like you were right about the sex trafficking,” Kensei said as they headed back to the station after a sobering two hours listening to Lilynette speak.

“Wish I wasn’t,” Shuuhei commented, scribbling down notes in the passenger’s seat as Kensei stopped for a red light. “I wish she’d been able to give a name, but even so. We can work with this.”

“We’re closer than we’ve ever been,” Kensei agreed quietly, his ever-present frown deepening a bit.

They arrived back at the station and immediately quarantined themselves in their shared office. Shuuhei pulled their case board to the middle of the room and set the tape recorder on his desk, pressing down the button. Lilynette’s voice filled the room.

“ _I fell in with what Stark called a bad crowd about six months ago. We stole, drank, did drugs…you know. The usual. There was an older kid at school, Mabashi, who said he could get us some drugs that made you feel like you were flying._

_“I was scared at first, because we used needles to inject it, but after a while that didn’t matter anymore. I’d never felt so good in my life. The only problem was, it was expensive. I stole so much money from Stark to buy from Mabashi…I hate myself for it. I stole from him, from my teachers, my friends…anything for more. When I couldn’t afford it anymore, Mabashi cut me off. We had a huge fight about it one day after school, and he finally told me of a way he knew to get more. I would’ve done anything at that point. He said he knew someone who could give me a steady supply for just a little bit of work, and I didn’t care…I just wanted more. So I said yes._

_“I wasn’t very alert the next few days, but I remember being branded with this symbol—”_ Shuuhei remembered how Lilynette had lifted up her shirt to show him the familiar crest etched into her skin— “ _and money changing hands. I was brought to what reminded me of a college dorm—a long hallway with many rooms—and given one of the rooms to stay in. I was supplied with the drug I wanted and in turn, every so often, someone visited my room and used me. I was so high I didn’t care. I didn’t feel the pain. I never had regular clients, but some of the other kids did. I can’t always remember what I dreamed and what actually happened, but I think I remember talk of one client who had favorites. Jinta was one of them. We didn’t know his name; we just called him the Fox. I never saw him, though. Jinta said he was kind to them—kinder than most of our other clients, at least.”_

 _“How did you escape?”_ Shuuhei’s voice crackled over the recording.

A shuddering sigh from Lilynette. _“Someone helped me. I don’t know his name. I barely remember what he looked like. Just that he had blond hair and shadows in his eyes. One evening he came to visit me, but instead of having sex with me, he took my hand and showed me out of the building through the maintenance wing. He took me a few blocks away and left me, saying I’d be found soon. I wandered, half out of my mind, until the police found me a few hours later. I’m sorry…I don’t remember where I was kept or…or…”_ Lilynette’s voice trailed off and Shuuhei shut off the recording.

“If we find the Fox, we find the kids,” Shuuhei said, scribbling notes on their case board. “And if we find who helped Lilynette, we find the Fox.”

“She didn’t give us much anything substantial,” Kensei replied grumpily. “Lotsa partial bits of information.”

“She was high out of her mind most of the time,” Shuuhei admonished gently. “It’s amazing she remembered as much as she did.”

“Not trying to seem ungrateful,” Kensei replied. “Just sick of these dead ends.”

Shuuhei sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, me too.” They were silent for a few moments, then both started to speak at once. “You first,” Shuuhei offered, leaning against his desk.

Kensei’s eyebrows drew together, his already hard mouth becoming sharper. “I just wanted—I mean—I wanted to apologize,” he said lamely, looking massively uncomfortable.

Shuuhei stopped what he was doing, refusing to look over at Kensei. “Apologize for what?” he said in a mild voice, smiling inwardly when he could practically hear the steam billowing from Kensei’s ears.

“For—you know, for—”

Finally, Shuuhei looked up, his steely eyes locking with Kensei’s golden ones. “For fucking me against your wall? For using me to make yourself feel better when you were grieving? For insisting you weren’t into guys and then fucking me and then insulting me and throwing me out of your home?” He couldn’t keep the sharp edge from his voice.

Kensei averted his gaze, looking ashamed. “Yeah. For all of that.”

A heavy silence descended between them, sapping energy out of the air. Shuuhei sighed, running his hand through his hair again. “It’s fine,” he said finally.

“It’s not,” Kensei retorted in a low voice. “I should never have touched you. If you didn’t want it—”

“I did,” Shuuhei interrupted. His heart was hammering in his chest, his hands quivering ever so slightly.

“I—what?”

“I did want it,” Shuuhei repeated. He swallowed, feeling like a lead weight had settled in his stomach. There was no coming back from this.

Kensei seemed uncharacteristically lost for words. A blush deepened in his cheeks. “I—well—you—okay,” he finished stupidly.

Shuuhei bit back a smile, deciding to take pity on his flustered partner. He’d nursed his crush for this long; he could wait. “Let’s get back to work, hey?”

* * *

 Later that night, Kensei lay in bed, wide awake, still running through the short conversation he’d had with Shuuhei in his mind.

“Fuck,” Kensei muttered to himself, throwing an arm over his eyes. His stomach was still in knots. When Shuuhei had said he’d wanted Kensei, his insides had erupted into writhing snakes, and the anxiety still gnawed at him.

Tachikaze whuffed softly in his sleep, his ears twitching, and Kensei reached over to stroke his soft head. The dog yawned and stretched, giving his master’s cheek a brief lick.

“I don’t know how to deal with this,” Kensei told his friend. Tachikaze cocked his head, watching him intently. “How the hell do I romance a guy? If Shuuhei were a girl I’d know exactly what to do, but I’m way outta my league here, boy.” A little bubble of fear prickled his throat, like it did every time he thought about his feelings for Shuuhei. Even after knowing Shinji for so long it was difficult to banish deep-seated prejudices he’d grown up with. _If my old man knew I had a crush on a guy._ The thought wasn’t a pleasant one and Kensei smirked without humor. His father would be rolling in his grave.

Tachikaze thrust his cold nose into Kensei’s neck, making him yelp. “Okay, okay, I’ll shut up,” Kensei muttered mutinously. He rolled over, trying to get comfortable, his stomach still writhing with nerves. _Fuck, I thought I’d finished this juvenile bullshit years ago. I’m too old for this shit._


End file.
